


Blue Moon

by NorthStar



Series: The X Clan Saga [1]
Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Gen, Lots of sobs, M/M, The Clan AU, all in!au, and actual individual plots, everyone has equal screentime, shoot me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 16:22:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 25,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7691392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NorthStar/pseuds/NorthStar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They share a beginning, and they share an end. Sometimes their stories intertwine on the way.</p><p>Because they have nothing besides each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blue Moon

**Author's Note:**

> so. all in au. who'd have thought. buckle yourselves up, kids, it's going to be a long ride
> 
> tw: violence, trauma (mental + physical), panic attacks, references to suicide, fires, abusive relationships, drugs, etc.  
> it's not my most brutal, but the only warning i can think of that doesn't apply is non-con, please let me know if i need to add anything else (i am a desensitized bastard)
> 
> i know i'm late to the party, but i wasn't going to write this, except then i started dabbling with headcanons and scenes i'd like to see from the characters that aren't featured as much in the mv (i.e. hoseok, changkyun, kihyun and jooheon) and 25k words later, here we are. 
> 
> while some of my decisions in this piece are purely artistic and not necessarily what i believe is the case from the mv, i've tried to make it compliant, if nothing else, and i've stayed away from other fanfics in order to produce my own interpretation. also i adored the dystopic setting, hated the magic element. soooo no magic here. pls bear with me because i cannot with that shit
> 
> this isn't proofread, so some parts are probably a bit wonky, but at this point i just wanted to get this out before the stuck mv (the HYPE) because all in speculations aren't half as fun after the sequel.
> 
> for further notes, discussions and explanations on this fanfic in particular and the 'all in' mv in general: [yarrrrr](http://wakinghyde.livejournal.com/42089.html)
> 
> (i cannot tag soz)

 

***

 

The boys were carefree children once.

 

They are still children.

 

They are still children, but they are children who have seen things they never wanted to see, children who have suffered, and children who have lost.

 

It started with rumours from Central, but no one pays much attention to those. No one thought it would matter much. They were just a small village in the province, no trouble, no value, nothing.

 

They were wrong.

 

Soon enough, _they_ came stamping in, hidden behind dark suits and anonymous helmets, rounding up the villagers and proclaiming their governance with the wave of a gun. Not even a protest, but a question later, blood coloured the sandy ground and people screamed.

 

But no one fought back.

 

 _They_ seized control of the village in less than an hour, and no one could do anything about it.

 

It happened to the neighbouring village as well. And the town next to them. And the town next to that one. Spreading like a disease from Central, cutting ties and isolating people into passivity with shouts and violence until tomorrow was a hope and the next year was a dream. _They_ burned their way through the country, killing and commanding with the same glee and for a purpose unknown to the secluded villagers.

 

All they had was each other. A community. Twice a week, in the church below the little mountain shielding the village from harsh Northern winds. They met, they prayed, they sang. That was how they held on, for a couple of years.

 

Then _they_ burned it down.

 

That marked the beginning of a new era.

 

***

 

They stick together whenever they can get away with it. _They_ don’t like large groups, but they are just kids, that’s what they say, and that’s how they get away.

 

Minhyuk leads the way home, home for most of them anyway, and he laughs at a joke Changkyun told about chickens and cats, smiling as the trips around the corner and gazes back. Jooheon and Kihyun is right behind them, pace uneven and careful, and no one talks about the slow progress or Jooheon’s arm around Kihyun’s shoulders, not anymore. Hoseok whistles cheerfully, but he is never more than half a step away, looking back and forth between the boys like an omnipresent guardian. Hyungwon follows as well, even though he shouldn’t, he should go home, but he smiles shakily whenever Minhyuk points this out and makes a flippant comment about his independence.

 

Minhyuk knows better than that, but he grins back and claps Hyungwon’s arm appreciatively nonetheless.

 

Jooheon makes a remark about how they should go down and visit Hyunwoo later, bother him a bit and lightening up his life while he pretends to be busy at work. Minhyuk cheers stridently at the idea, but bows and apologizes quickly when the old lady walking past them gives him a whack with her cane.

 

It’s alright.

 

They all know the orphanage boys, that they are a bit of a rowdy gang, but innocent at heart, and Minhyuk is the loudest one.

 

Hyungwon keeps joking that people can hear him on the other side of the country, but Minhyuk takes it as a compliment.

 

“If people can’t avoid hearing me they can’t ignore me,” he says. “They’ll have to listen to what I say.”

 

No one points out that people generally don’t listen to kids anyway.

 

It’s not as if they don’t have enough down times between the seven of them, and they tend to pretend their problems don’t exist as much as possible whenever they are together. Out of sight, out of mind. Some things can’t be pushed aside, but they try, turning their backs and changing topics, and for a while, it lasts.

 

“It’s a shame that the summer ends so quickly,” Hoseok says wistfully as they approach the orphanage. He looks at the dying hedges with a displeased frown, picking off some dry leaves as he they pass by. “Not looking forward to winter this year.”

 

“Do you ever?” Minhyuk counters with a grin. “I feel like I hear this complaint every year.”

 

“What a relief, I thought it was just my life was on repeat,” Changkyun mumbles to Jooheon and Kihyun, and they both snicker at his incredulous face.

 

“Well, you wouldn’t hear it so much if you just helped me maintain the house a little bit,” Hoseok retorts, but Minhyuk is already turning away from him and towards Hoseok.

 

“I usually don’t listen to dumb,” he starts as Hyungwon rolls his eyes. “Hey, don’t make that face! I was gonna say that I usually don’t listen to dumb, and that’s why I prefer to hang out with you, but if you’re gonna be like that I’m taking it back.”

 

“I can’t decide where you went wrong there,” Hyungwon pats his head, and Minhyuk positively fumes at the patronization.

 

Kihyun and Changkyun have already gone inside to make dinner while Hoseok runs to check on his apple trees.

 

It’s a normal day.

 

***

 

Minhyuk used to be a sweet kid.

 

He is still a sweet kid, but he is also an angry young man with too many regrets and a merciless temper.

 

His friends think the anger started after _they_ murdered his parents.

 

His friends are wrong.

 

That was when he gained courage.

 

The anger had always been there.

 

He was angry when his parents told him to stop playing and come back inside, but he was afraid of being scolded, so he said good-bye to his friends and skulked home. He was angry when Changhyun cried because the older boys bullied him, but Minhyuk was scared of them as well, and couldn’t do anything but take him back to the orphanage and Kihyun’s waiting arms. He was angry when Hyungwon admitted that the bruises on his face came from his dad, but Minhyuk was just a child, he couldn’t fight a grown man.

 

Things are changing.

 

Minhyuk doesn’t see himself as a child anymore.

 

***

 

Minhyuk has a tendency to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong.

 

He can’t help it, he is a curious cat with excessive amounts of vitality and freedom (relatively speaking, anyway – what passes as freedom in their suppressed world) and he needs a way to channel his energy. To keep himself occupied, to do something about his interests and concerns besides just twisting them around inside his head until he goes nuts from it all.

 

Today isn’t so bad.

 

He came home to the orphanage, Hyungwon in tow, with fresh cuts and red welts all over his arms and face, and Hoseok can’t help it, he falls down laughing as soon as he sees the twisted, swollen pout on Minhyuk’s face.

 

“What the hell happened to you?” Jooheon demands, and he raises an eyebrow Minhyuk’s sulk.

 

“Poison ivy,” Hyungwon says when Minhyuk doesn’t reply. “And a cat. Minhyuk made a new best friend today.”

 

Hoseok is still twitching with laughter outside, and Minhyuk gives him a look as they pass his writhing mess on their way inside.

 

Changkyun and Kihyun are playing cards on the kitchen table, but they look up when Minhyuk and Hyungwon enters.

 

“Hyung, your face looks good,” Changkyun states, tone as blank as his expression. “Did you borrow makeup from that girl behind the garage again?”

 

Kihyun leans over to smack his arm good-naturedly, but gives Minhyuk a pointed look that can only be interpreted as an exasperated question.

 

“I repeat,” Hyungwon pats Minhyuk’s shoulder, earning a yelp and a scowl. “Poison ivy and a cat. Good times.”

 

Kihyun rolls his eyes, but gets up from his seat and limps over to Minhyuk. He runs his fingers over the red patches on Minhyuk’s arms before pushing him down into the now vacant chair with a huff.

 

They have different responsibilities around the orphanage these days. There are no one around to take care of them, hasn’t been for some years now, but they are old enough to manage, more or less. Hyunwoo and his uncle helps, and Hoseok cleans for the old ladies down in the village a couple of times a week for a small sum. Other days he tends to the fields behind the house, growing simple vegetables according to the instructions of his grateful patrons. It’s not a luxurious life, but it’s enough.

 

Jooheon brings them stuff from outside the village, sometimes. Always illegal, always curious, but they are isolated enough to get away with it.

 

The salve Kihyun picks up from one of the cupboards is from a village three days away, and they are quite sparse with it, but no one questions his judgement when he puts it down on the table and fills a small bowl with water. Changkyun gets up to help, pushing his chair to the other side of the table so Kihyun can sit down, and goes to the bathroom to find a clean cloth.

 

It’s not necessarily routine, their lives are more sporadic than that, but they understand each other, enough to know what they need, when, where.

 

Like a weird family.

 

Kihyun accepts the torn towel from Changkyun gratefully, with a little smile, and sits down in the chair next to Minhyuk. He gestures for the jacket to come off, so he can have a better look at his arms and neck, and Minhyuk complies slowly, with a wince. The sleeves drag against his sore skin, and when he straightens his elbows the scratches pull uncomfortably.

 

But he’s had worse – they all have.

 

Changkyun plops down in the worn armchair in the corner, the one they keep in the kitchen mostly so Changkyun or Hoseok can keep Kihyun company when he cooks, even though it looks awkward and out of place. Kihyun keeps telling them to throw it out, but Changkyun always whines and gives his best puppy eyes, and it’s not like Kihyun can deny Changkyun anything.

 

Jooheon hates the chair, too. He insists that there are things living in it, bugs or rats or other foul creatures, and it’s not something they should keep in their home, let alone their kitchen. In the end, they kept it around because Minhyuk claims to appreciate the ugly green and brown tartar pattern.

 

Aesthetics has never been particularly important in the orphanage anyway.

 

Still, Minhyuk lets out a forlorn sigh at the thought of his handsome faced marred by angry rashes and scratches for the next few days. Kihyun rolls his eyes unsympathetically and clicks his tongue before starting to dab at his wounds. Minhyuk knows that expression. It’s Kihyun’s patented you-brought-this-on-yourself-expression, and Minhyuk sees it often enough to take offense when it’s really undeserving.

 

“It wasn’t my fault, I swear!” He says indignantly, but Kihyun just gives him a thoroughly unimpressed look and presses the cloth down harder on the sore skin, making Minhyuk yelp a little. “Please be gentle, Kihyunnie!”

 

“I mean, what comes around goes around,” Hyungwon points out from where he’s leaning against the wall. “No one forced you to follow that cat.”

 

“I wasn’t following the cat,” Minhyuk protests. “I was helping it. Big difference, and – ow! Kihyun!”

 

His whining earns him a flick to the forehead, one of the few spots on his face that isn’t sore thanks to his heavy fringe, but the ache from Kihyun’s merciless fingers soon eradicates that problem.

 

“How is the patient?” Hoseok saunters in with a small basket of fruit and smirks at the scene. Minhyuk bares his teeth at him and makes a poor imitation of an aggressive dog, while Kihyun snorts to himself. Hoseok takes it as a sign that Minhyuk will survive.

 

“He’s being a little bitch about it,” Hyungwon quips, stealing an apple from Hoseok’s basket as he walks past. “But what else is new.”

 

“You staying for dinner?” Hoseok asks and snatches the apple back when Hyungwon nods. “Then give me back our food, you freeloader.”

 

“You don’t treat me well,” Hyungwon sighs dramatically, which causes Minhyuk to turn from his chair to glare at him.

 

“What comes around goes around,” he echoes, though without bite. “This is called fair retribution. Also – ow, for fuck’s sake, Kihyun!”

 

Kihyun sticks his tongue out and puts a finger on Minhyuk’s mouth.

 

“Mind your language,” Changkyun translates helpfully, even though Minhyuk could have sworn he was asleep. He’s sprawled out awkwardly in what looks like a decidedly uncomfortable position, legs dangling over one armrest and his shoulders stretching out across the other, but he doesn’t seem bothered by the unnatural twist in his spine.

 

“Where is Jooheon?” Hoseok asks, shifting Minhyuk’s attention from the odd kid in the corner.

 

He shrugs and glances at Hoseok over Kihyun’s fingers prodding his face.

 

“Haven’t seen him all day,” he says. “Probably went out. Didn’t he tell you?”

 

“He doesn’t always tell me these days,” Hoseok frowns. “I wish he did. We get worried when he just disappears like this.”

 

“He can take care of himself,” Hyungwon supplies, but he doesn’t sound entirely convinced either. It’s not that they don’t trust Jooheon’s ability to watch his own back – he has probably seen more of the world than either of them, little as that means. They have just learned not to take anything for granted. Things happen. People get hurt.

 

It’s just unfortunate circumstances.

 

“Well, let’s just hope he makes it back for dinner.”

 

He doesn’t.

 

But he sneaks in a few hours after sunset, when Hoseok is the only one awake and minding the fireplace, backpack full and cheeks dimpled from a big grin. He shows Hoseok some of the things he got, canned pork, a bottle of spirits, tiny tin cars, and Hoseok just smiles tiredly at him and tells him to put it in the kitchen.

 

He stays up for a few more hours after the embers die down and darkness wraps around him thickly. Just thinking.

 

***

 

It’s easier to pretend that _they_ aren’t there, sometimes. To just sit around by the hills beneath the orphanage, exchanging frisky insults and playing old games with sticks and cards. They remain largely unbothered like this, away from the busy streets and hard glares, isolated, peaceful. These are the times when Minhyuk’s shoulders relax and Jooheon ignores the paranoia, when Changhyun runs around like the kid he is and Kihyun laughs freely. Hoseok plays pranks and Hyungwon jokes around and Hyunwoo makes faces.

 

It’s a decent life like that, when they keep to themselves and run away from the problems down in the village.

 

 It never lasts.

 

***

 

It’s one of those clammy, dark days where the rain has fallen four hours straight and heavy clouds still threaten to unleash a new waterfall any given second, ready to attack at the slightest provocation.

 

Minhyuk finds Hyungwon sitting alone against the wall to the orphanage, knees drawn up to his chest and eyes downcast. His bare arms are bruised, and Minhyuk sees a couple of thin cuts against his right forearm. Minhyuk doesn’t know exactly what caused them, but he knows who. He vaguely knows why.

 

He knows why. He just doesn’t understand it.

 

Hyungwon’s eyes don’t raise to greet him, but Minhyuk sits down next to him anyway. The ground is wet and cold after the autumn rain, but he doesn’t really care about that.

 

He hates moments like these. He knows what happened, and it sends something twisting in his stomach and rising up his throat, but his swallows it back down with an audible gulp. Hyungwon’s dejected look, trembling lips and bruised shoulders just make him so angry.

 

He wishes there was something he could do, and he tries, but Hyungwon refuses to listen to him. Minhyuk tells him to leave, to stay with them at the orphanage instead, but Hyungwon is stubborn and refuses every time. It’s as confusing as it is heartbreaking. Minhyuk doesn’t understand this peculiar loyalty Hyungwon has to a man that can’t even look him in the eye without sneering, but Hyungwon just shakes his head and tells him to leave it be.

 

In the end, Minhyuk usually does just that. He hates himself for it, but he doesn’t want to fight Hyungwon either.

 

He just wants to fight the man that keeps hurting his own son.

 

“Do you remember back in the days,” he starts, quietly, and tries to force a cheerful tone into his voice. It probably doesn’t work, but Hyungwon needs to know that he tries. “When we were tiny, and our parents took us out to the sea? Your dad, and… My mom, and dad… And we would be so happy to see the ocean, all the huge waves and the endless beach and the seagulls? I remember the seagulls stealing your lunch, and I had to give you half of mine. You still haven’t paid me back, you punk.”

 

But he kind of has. They have all paid and repaid each other a hundred times by now.

 

“Those times were good,” Minhyuk says, and reaches out to grab Hyungwon’s hand. It’s cold, still wet, and Minhyuk is sure his nails would be blue by now. He isn’t going to check.

 

Hyungwon doesn’t reply, but lets his head fall backward against the wall with a heavy sigh. The rain is starting up again, like a small drizzle at first, and then a heavier pour. They both get soaked as they sit there in the dusk, but neither of them attempts to move.

 

Hyungwon slowly squeezes Minhyuk’s hand back.

 

***

 

The first time Jooheon heard the secret of the blue flowers, he scoffed at the silliness of it all. The bluebird is basically a weed, growing wherever there is soil outside their little village, wherever there is a patch of fertile ground against old, rotten walls and gravel roads. It’s pretty, but not very useful, and spreads across cultured land like a parasite. It steals away the nutrients from the ground and makes it difficult to grow things like roses or vegetables or even young trees.

 

And yet, despite its invasive nature, it’s also a very rare plant that doesn’t spread beyond the little mountain area that surrounds their village. It’s theirs, for good and bad.

 

But Jooheon never thought it was anything special.

 

Then he heard someone mention it during a secret visit to the neighbouring village.

 

They talked about the blue flowers, said they were special, that they could heal heartaches and invigorate the spirit, that they could transport you to another world, that they could – give you magic powers.

 

It was hushed in the corners of an old tea shop, scraggy-looking men a decade or so older than Jooheon, and he frowned as he listened to their hurried whispers. They said it was so close, only a day’s march away, and that they could have found them if only they weren’t so scared – scared of _them. They_ were here as well, of course they were, but this town was bigger than Jooheon’s own little village, and he would risk unsanctioned visits if they gave him what he wanted.

 

The town was bigger, but without much additional security. The soldiers probably thought this was just a sleepy countryside town.

 

Jooheon, however, knows what goes on behind the stage in this town. He shouldn’t approve of it, because even the smallest sign of resistance was what ruined the lives of so many people from his own village, including some of his friends, but he pushes the thought away. He looks at the bigger picture.

 

One of the men said he heard about the blue flowers from his grandfather, who had travelled from the mountain of the blue flowers many times as a young man, and always reaped the pleasures from their juice. But he was too old to go, and these people were too afraid.

 

Jooheon didn’t believe them.

 

He got what he came here for (the latest gossip about the political situation from Central, a few spices for the orphanage’s kitchen, pills) and was ready to leave.

 

The bluebird was an ordinary flower, nothing that causes magic or anything like that. It’s ridiculous to think about such a thing – they have more than enough worries, they shouldn’t delude themselves with mindless ideas like this. It would only be a distraction.

 

But when he crawls up the hillside during the night and spots the regal blue littering the grass at his feet, he thinks about their words.

 

***

 

Some days are painful. Those are days when his legs cramp up, burn, fall apart and grow numb, when his spine aches and sharp stabs climb up his back and across his shoulders, when his arms grow weary and he can’t even walk down the stairs to the market without help.

 

Some days are okay.

 

Kihyun likes to think that the okay days are the majority. It helps him ignore Changkyun’s eyes following him across the kitchen, looking for any sign of weakness or pain, and it helps when he struggles his way through bad days, repeating to himself that it’s alright, this is just unlucky, tomorrow will be better.

 

Sometimes tomorrow is better.

 

Sometimes he has to admit defeat and let Changkyun fuss over him as they stumble their way down to the kitchen.

 

It’s as humiliating as it is painful, to be unable to go an entire day without help, to be dependent on the younger boys he used to look after when they were small, to sit quietly and accept their assistance just simply because he doesn’t have a choice.

 

He can’t even speak up for himself anymore, and it’s a relief that the others always understand, that he doesn’t have to try so hard because he’s just tired.

 

But he’s not the only one who’s tired.

 

Changkyun runs circles around him on a daily basis, but even he has a finite amount of energy, and Kihyun sees it drain whenever he has to glue himself to Kihyun’s side for a day. Changkyun has this sense of duty, blinded by loyalty and affection for his friends, that forces him to always make sure that Kihyun is alright, that he isn’t in pain, that he is heard.

 

He appreciates the gesture, but at this point it’s futile anyway, and Changkyun just wears himself out when he tries to remedy issues that can never be resolved.

 

There is a guilty gratitude looming in his chest whenever Changkyun holds his shoulder, helps him get things out of his reach, follows him to the village. He knows Changkyun is sincere, that he does it not out of pity or a misguided sense of compassion, but out of love, and yet Kihyun sees how his presence weighs on Changkyun’s shoulders like an invisible weight.

 

He sometimes wishes Changkyun wasn’t such a good person, that he was more selfish and looked after himself more, enjoyed his freedom and didn’t stick with Kihyun’s broken self.

 

But he also doesn’t know what he would do without Changkyun, and he feels like a selfish bastard for keeping their youngest, the pure, innocent little hero so close still.

 

If only he had the heart to let him go.

 

***

 

“Hey Uncle,” Hyunwoo says as he sits next to the bed.

 

The oxygen tank by his feet hisses loudly, but the old man turns his head and looks at him, smiles a little over the mask. Blinks, and his eyes crease a little at the corners, and Hyunwoo grins back.

 

“I’m sorry I’m a bit late, got held up at work,” he apologizes, in vain, because his uncle isn’t going anywhere. But Hyunwoo doesn’t remind himself of that.

 

He coughs awkwardly, trying to fill the air with noise that rings louder than the tank, wanting to drown out the cruel reminder, recently installed and now purely necessary. Hyunwoo hates it, the noise it makes, the ugly presence it imposes on the room and his uncle’s dependency on it. But he has to appreciate it for what it is – something that helps him breathe, keeps him alive, if only for so long.

 

Hyunwoo’s stomach twists.

 

He has never been a talkative person, and distracting himself and his uncle is a decidedly hard task for him. They used to get along in silence, both of them saving their words for demanding times, but Hyunwoo doesn’t like this faux-silence at all, and he wishes for a moment that he had a motor mouth like Minhyuk or Jooheon. They always seemed to talk, about nothing and everything, and without needing a conversation partner.

 

That’s not Hyunwoo, but he feels like he should at least try.

 

“I’ve got some more money now,” he says, forcing his voice to sound as chipper as possible. “The garage pays okay, they’re actually quite generous considering I don’t really know that much yet. It’s enough that I can set some off every week to save for the operation.”

 

He pauses a little, but the old man doesn’t answer.

 

He didn’t really expect him to.

 

“And the Shin couple next door,” his voice is sounding a bit desperate now, but he can’t help it. He tries, but he’s not a great actor. “They lent me some money, says to take our time paying them back because they understand that this is difficult, especially now – and, yeah, they send their regards. Says they hope you get well soon.”

 

He probably isn’t going to get well soon. He hasn’t shown any signs of improvement over the past two years, not since his lungs were seared away by fire and smoke in a communal tragedy.

 

But Hyunwoo knows he could get better.

 

He still has a chance. He just needs the money.

 

***

 

Jooheon doesn’t believe in magic, but he believes all rumours must start somewhere, and tries to ask around, in this village and the next town, until he can find out what the bluebird actually does.

 

He hears more talk about how it makes people happy, chases away their problems and soothes their minds, like it’s all some magical escape for reality.

 

Then there are claims about its ability to show the future, paint a picture of a personal apocalypse or attainable heaven, hidden behind blue smoke and sweet aromas contained within the seeds that usually go unnoticed.

 

Some people talk about a mixture using the juice from the flower that can turn even the weakest of men into invincible heroes, how tribal warriors drank it to enhance their strength to conquer their enemies hundreds of years ago, how it’s a weapon and a cure and a lover all at the same time.

 

It sounds ludicrous, but there are some reoccurring elements.

 

Some… Effects, to call it that, which are claimed to be magic but Jooheon knows could be something else.

 

Delirium, adrenaline, excitement, lots of stuff.

 

It sounds interesting, and harmless, right? The bluebird isn’t poisonous, Jooheon knows, because Changkyun used to munch on it as a toddler because he thought the colour was pretty. He would always spit it out afterwards and rub at his tongue as if the sour taste would go away if he wiped it off like that. He might have sulked and cried a bit about it, but he was never sick, and he turned out alright.

 

Well, relatively speaking, anyway. He did grow up to become a little bit weird, but that’s probably a result of being the youngest boy in an orphanage left to its own devices and clueless older kids who always doted on his adorable baby cheeks. Probably not the bluebird.

 

In any case, it could have been worse, and Jooheon is more curious than cautious. It’s why he’s out here, after all, rather than cowering under _their_ shadows back in the village.

 

He doesn’t know if any of these rumours, any of these _stories,_ are real or not, because he is a sceptic at heart and has always followed a philosophy warning that if something sounds too good to be true, it’s probably not even worth your time.

 

But this talk about the bluebird, it’s not as random as it seems. It’s rooted in the culture of the area, once he digs deep enough, buried and forgotten, but not eradicated, and Jooheon eventually reaches the conclusion that even if he can’t say exactly what the deceptive flower does, it certainly does _something._

 

He keeps looking.

 

***

 

If anyone asked Hoseok what he wanted to be when he grew up, he would say that he wanted to be like his brother.

 

Now, aged 18, he still wants to be like his brother.

 

And he tries.

 

He is old enough to leave the orphanage, but he doesn’t want to. Where would he go? And what would happen to the others, those he leaves behind?

 

Hoseok is the oldest at the orphanage now, not by much, but enough that it counts. Enough that he feels responsible for the younger kids, like he has to protect them because there is no one else around.

 

His brother used to be the oldest kid at the orphanage. He used to protect them all equally, even if Hoseok was his only sibling related by blood.

 

Blood doesn’t run thicker than water, not in this village.

 

He remembers asking his brother why he always looked out for everyone. Why he always spent so much time making sure everyone was alright, had their supper, had a warm blanket for the night, a shoulder to cry on. And his brother had looked at him, smiled, and ruffled Hoseok’s hair.

 

“Because they need me,” his brother had said. “And I can’t abandon someone who needs me.”

 

But in the end, that was just what he did.

 

Not intentionally, never, he would never do that. Hoseok’s brother was far too good a man to leave them behind if he could help it.

 

But he went to the church that day. When the village lost so many people to the fire, and even more were left with half a life in its wake.

 

Hoseok swore he would never forget.

 

And he would never forgive.

 

But more than that, he swore to honour his brother’s legacy with his life. He would never abandon the people he loved – the people that needed him.

 

***

 

Jooheon returns to the village after three days, and when he walks past the soldiers he winks and blows them a kiss that makes them turn away in disgust. Jooheon cackles a little, louder than necessary, and starts the trudge up to the orphanage.

 

 _They_ can think whatever they want of him.

 

He got what he wanted.

 

***

 

Hyunwoo, Jooheon and Hyungwon are walking back from the woods when they see some of _them_ harassing the two old men selling shoes outside their house at the outskirts of town.

 

It’s things like these. Things that remind them how undeniably sullied their village has become, how much worse life is now compared to ten years ago, the unfairness of it all.

 

 _They_ have no right to pick at these kind, pleasant men for selling their services outside. They can’t afford a locale, but they make good shoes and do great repairs in their backyards, so what is the problem? Absolutely nothing, there is no problem.

 

 _They_ just do this because they can.

 

“Hey, fellas!” Jooheon is always the one to taunt the soldiers, pulling their strings and stretching every limit, but he knows exactly what he can do, how far he can go before they snap back. He understands the delicate balance the soldiers walk between control and destruction, it informs his swagger and encourages his ire when he approaches.

 

Hyunwoo and Hyungwon are more reserved in their dislike, having their own reasons to hold back, avoid engagement whenever possible, but they aren’t going to stop Jooheon when he goes on a tangent like this. They agree with him, of course they do, and they follow his lead once he starts, but they aren’t on the hit list the same way that Jooheon is.

 

Jooheon is aggressive in his defiance.

 

It’s as much a trigger as the derisive snorts coming from the soldiers when they take in the old men’s provisional table.

 

One of them looks up at Jooheon’s shout, but it’s impossible to say what reaction he has behind that dark mask. Probably not a positive one, but that much is expected, anticipated.

 

“Don’t you have something better to do on a fine day like this?” Jooheon asks, his voice overly friendly and arms stretched out. “Surely this bullying must get old really soon. Pun not intended,” he adds, glancing back at the men behind the soldiers with a pointed look.

 

They take the hint and gives Jooheon a grateful look before gathering up their goods and scampering off. If the soldiers take notice, they don’t react to it.

 

“Please leave,” one of them tells Jooheon briskly. “Or we will have to forcefully remove you from the premises.”

 

“What premises, the street?” Jooheon snorts. Next to him, Hyunwoo approaches another soldier with mock fascination.

 

“Did you get new vests?” He says and leans forward to expect their uniforms, and even though his throat tickles nervously, he tries to keep up the cocky façade Jooheon inspires. “That’s cool. I know of a few other places that could use some money, but I suppose this is cool too.”

 

Jooheon gives him an appreciative salute before a hand roughly shoves his shoulder. Another soldier has come up behind the one that addressed him first, and though he can only see his gritted teeth, Jooheon can feel the irritation radiating off tense muscles and a predatory stance.

 

_Good._

“This is insolence. Leave. We will hurt you.”

 

“Will you?” Jooheon challenges with a grin and steps up to the soldier. Jooheon isn’t particularly tall, but this soldier is just about average in height and built, and looms over him in his dark glory with his gun angled before his chest threateningly.

 

Jooheon doesn’t care.

 

He grabs the muzzle of the gun and points it directly at his own forehead challengingly.

 

“Go on, then. I even helped you aim, can’t miss now, can you?”

 

His words are followed by stunned silence, hesitant movements and audible angry breaths.

 

Meanwhile, Hyungwon tries to look behind the mask of the fourth soldier. The guy doesn’t call him out or shove at him, but his head moves along with Hyungwon’s curious gaze, and it’s frankly a bit amusing to watch. Like a scared animal, or a robot. Hyungwon chuckles to himself at the thought. He knows the soldiers are dangerous, he knows what they can do, what they _have_ done, but this one doesn’t strike him as particularly dangerous.

 

He might just be a kid.

 

Hyungwon picks one of the blue flowers out of his bag and puts in between a strap and the soldier’s vest. It’s audacious at best, but he knows they aren’t going to shoot them for this.

 

He dares them to do something else instead.

 

“You look so much prettier now,” he says to the soldier, who only stares at him, expression unreadable. “Less scary. More like a person. Are you a person?”

 

They are chased off eventually, or maybe they just run away because they decide that they’ve got places to be. Jooheon cackles like a possessed man all the way up to the orphanage, shouting out boasts and cocky threats in between gasping laughs, and Hyungwon and Hyunwoo can’t help but follow suit despite themselves.

 

These small, individual moments might not mean much in the long run, but they taste just as sweet, and sends a rush of adrenaline that lasts for hours through them.

 

They feel like they do something. They’re making a point, they are showcasing their defiance.

 

They aren’t bowing down.

 

***

 

Today has been a bad day.

 

Kihyun has spent the majority of the day lying on the couch and listening to Changkyun talk, trying to block out the aches in his legs and the unpleasant tingle in his spine, and it helps a little, but not nearly enough. Changkyun knows, he sees it in the frown that keeps Kihyun from smiling, in the defeated slump when Kihyun barely made it through breakfast before collapsing in the common room with a frustrated sigh.

 

It’s unfortunate, today more than any other day, because they were going down to pick up some groceries later, supplies for empty cupboards and barren shelves. The trip to the market is a hassle most of the time, but today is worse than usual and Kihyun would love to postpone it if he didn’t have to feed the boys.

 

Better to get it over and done with. Maybe he has time for another nap before dinner.

 

He makes to rise, throwing his feet off the couch and gripping the armrest tightly as he pushes himself to an upright position slowly, painfully, and there are stabs in his lower back and screams in his knees, but he doesn’t make a sound through it all.

 

Then Changkyun is there, faithful like a shadow and just as sneaky.

 

“Hyung, what are you doing?” He asks and puts a hand on Kihyun’s arm. “Do you need anything? I can go – “

 

But Kihyun only shakes his head, still looking down at his trembling feet next to Changkyun’s steady ones, and raises an arm towards the kitchen.

 

Changkyun understands immediately.

 

“No, it’s alright,” he tries to reassure him. “You don’t have to go, you’re not well today. Hey, if you write a note, I can go down and pick everything up for you, just stay here and rest, yeah?”

 

Kihyun shakes his head again. He moves his hand to gesture to their front door, brings it back to his face and makes a choking noise, but when he looks up at Changkyun his eyes are met with concerned scepticism.

 

“I know, it’s sort of stuffy in here,” he agrees slowly. “But it’s still not a good idea for you to go out for a long walk like this. I can leave the door open, shouldn’t that be enough?”

 

It’s frustrating to be so weak. To be unable to make decisions for yourself, to be a liability to your friends and an isolated victim.

 

Kihyun wants to keep protesting, making his case, but his back hurts so badly, and when he tries to wrench himself free and move on outside, Changkyun’s grip turns fiercer and holds him in place.

 

“No, hyung,” Changkyun says, more determined than gentle this time, and Kihyun knows he’s lost already. “It’s okay. It’s my turn to take care of you, now. Just like you did for me when we were kids.”

 

Kihyun looks at him sadly, opens his mouth, and he wants to say, _but Changkyunie, we’re still kids._

Nothing comes out.

 

He tries to speak, but when his vocal chords constrict and his lips start to move, he feels the fire licking at his hair, heavy, sharp wood pressing at his spine and his eyes blur from dirty smoke and pain and fear, the raw, gnawing pain when his song turns into agonized screaming, and it just spreads, sending spasm of electricity down his legs until they are numb –

 

He sits down and looks at his hands instead.

 

Changkyun goes to the market alone.

 

 

***

 

Hyungwon’s dad approaches like a storm, taking the boys by surprise where they have hidden under the bridge (though Hyungwon thinks he should have expected this the moment they approached the soldiers earlier that day) and interrupting their games by stepping through the drawings in the dust. Changkyun frowns makes an indignant noise, but Hyungwon’s dad only has eyes for his son.

 

Two other men trail after him sort of uncertainly, glancing at the boys with a mix of confusion and disgust, maybe a bit of pity as well, but they remain silent before the inevitable clash.

 

Hyungwon sees what’s coming, and he’s willing to stand his ground out here, in front of his friends, in neutral territory, but he has barely risen to his feet before his cheek stings and his eyes fall on the gravel beneath his boots. He hears Minhyuk scramble to his feet behind him, Hoseok’s abrupt objection and Kihyun’s shocked gasp.

 

He opens his mouth to speak, but his father cuts him off before he even has the chance to breathe.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He seethes. “Where are your wits, boy? I’ve told you before, you have to show them some _respect,_ none of this pathetic delinquency! Stop disgracing me, you ungrateful little shit!”

 

It’s always about _him,_ isn’t it, and how _he_ can maintain his position in this newly built hierarchy maintained by guns and aggressive threats. It’s never about them as a family anymore, hasn’t been for a long time.

 

In the midst of a tortured village there are those who acquiesce, who offers their hands rather than grit their teeth against the ground. Hyungwon’s father is one such person.

 

He hates the feeling of that same blood running through his veins.

 

Sometimes he wants to spill it, see the red river flow down bruised skin and fall uselessly to the ground, blend with dust and fade into nothingness. Retribution.

 

Then he realizes it won’t make a difference.

 

He also realizes that he would never be able to do such a thing.

 

He still remembers the days when he adored his father, when he thought he painted the sky and lit up the moon every night before going to sleep, when his father laughed and danced his mother around the house and ruffled Hyungwon’s hair affectionately.

 

It’s been some years, and Hyungwon doesn’t really see any traces of that man in his father these days, but he remembers, and he wishes, and he dreams.

 

Then he wakes up, and he cries.

 

“Fuck!” He yells, throwing the rock he was using in the game earlier against the bridge foundation next to him. It bounces off, and his father takes a step back in shock. “Don’t blame me because you’re a coward! This isn’t right, and you know it!”

 

“I won’t have you speak to me in this manner,” his growls back, and his voice is ice cold. Hyungwon doesn’t want to care.

 

“Are you the only one in this family who can demand respect?” Hyungwon shoots back. “Am I supposed to just lay down? No, dad, this is just because you’re afraid to stand up for what’s right!”

 

“Shut up!” His father’s hand strikes the air, but it isn’t anywhere near Hyungwon’s face. “You need to learn your place! Things are going on in this village that you don’t understand – “

 

“I understand, but I don’t have to agree – “

 

“Then you’re an idiot!”

 

It’s not the greatest insult they have ever exchanged, but the air falls silent around them in a touchy stalemate.

 

Jooheon and Changkyun shift uncomfortably, and one of the two men accompanying Hyungwon’s father lets out a soft sigh, but no one dares interfere, because really, what should they do? There are probably a hundred ways to work around this, to support one or another, and maybe they should raise their voices too, but the seconds drag on and they remain in uncertain, tense quietness.

 

It’s Hyungwon’s father who makes the first move. He clicks his tongue and turns around, throwing his arms up in exasperation, but leaves without any further words. His companions follow suit, barely glancing at the forgotten kids under the bridge, and soon enough they are alone again.

 

Hyungwon stares after them until they disappear around a corner, but his shoulders remain stiff for minutes afterwards. He falls to the ground with a frustrated sigh, drops his head in his hands and ruffles his hair restlessly.

 

Behind him, Minhyuk still stares at him with clouded eyes.

 

***

 

When Hyungwon doesn’t show up for classes at Mrs Kwon’s next day, Minhyuk knows they have reached a new low.

 

He goes to the old house later, sees the open door swinging in the wind and says fuck off to all courtesies. The owner of the house doesn’t deserve them, and Hyungwon would never care.

 

The inside is a mess, half neglected and half rotten, and it’s a far cry from the home Minhyuk visited often as a kid, but the tapestry and braided panels on the floor are still recognizable. He sees some other stuff he remembers as well, like the beautiful, painted vase taking up an entire corner by itself, an old-fashioned table, the long windows against the Western walls.

 

But it’s altered. Too much has changed.

 

He finds Hyungwon leaning against the wall in the midst of a broken room, and his face is covered by the white beanies they tore holes in to play police and bandits when they were younger. Minhyuk was always the villain back then, and he would let Hyungwon and Kihyun catch him when the game went on for too long, but it didn’t matter much, because in the end they all tore off the masks and old caps and suddenly they were on the same side again.

 

“Hyungwon?”

 

Minhyuk frowns and reaches for the mask.

 

Hyungwon pulls away, even swats limply at Minhyuk’s hands when they rise to his face a second time.

 

“Hyungwon-ah – “

 

“Stop it, Minhyuk,” Hyungwon mumbles, and it sounds wrong twisted somehow, but there is a hole for the mouth, so it doesn’t quite make sense to Minhyuk.

 

“Hey, come on,” Minhyuk huffs. “Not gonna show me your beautiful face today?”

 

“Leave me alone.”

 

“No.” Minhyuk sits back on his heels and brings his hands to his knees. “Why didn’t you show up for tutoring today?”

 

He thinks he knows. He looks at Hyungwon’s thin arms and fallen posture, and he is pretty sure that he knows.

 

His suspicions have never been wrong so far, and just the thought makes Minhyuk’s blood boil. He hears the anger in his voice, not even concealed by playful, casual words, and he hopes Hyungwon realizes who he’s targeting.

 

“Come on, talk to me,” he says, forcefully, but Hyungwon only shakes his head.

 

“I’m not gonna leave until you say ‘hi’ to me,” Minhyuk persists, and he thinks he hears Hyungwon scoff. It’s something. Minhyuk is used to people scoffing at him, and it works, so he doesn’t mind.

 

“You didn’t miss much,” he starts, as a way of keeping the noise flowing. “We were mostly doing maths, and you were always better at that than me, so you’ll probably catch up in no time. It was just one day, after all. We kept doing the weird squares and triangles and stuff, I don’t know, it mostly went over my head. I’m so bored without you there, you don’t even know.”

 

He expects a dismissive, “of course”, or even, “I am bored with you there” or something equally biting, because that is what Hyungwon does. Minhyuk is an easy punching bag, and on most days this dynamic works fine.

 

Today, Hyungwon doesn’t say anything to Minhyuk’s easy baits.

 

“Okay,” Minhyuk frowns and scratches his chin. “Also, dinner up at ours tonight, if you’re interested. Or, I guess, you could just sit here all day and be sad and lonely. Doesn’t really suit you, though, life is better with friends. And we finally persuaded Hyunwoo to come as well, so it should be lively tonight.”

 

He pauses, but still nothing.

 

Minhyuk is running out of patience.

 

“You don’t have to come,” he says cautiously. “But I think you should. If nothing else, please just let me know you’re okay. I’m not asking for much.”

 

“Fine.”

 

It’s so soft that for a second, Minhyuk thinks he imagines hearing the little confirmation.

 

But when he brings his hands up to Hyungwon’s face, slowly and gently, he isn’t pushed away like before, and Hyungwon only sits quietly as Minhyuk slips the old beanie off his face.

 

He can’t keep back a surprised gasp.

 

Hyungwon’s high cheekbones are painted red, purple and blue, matching a mark spreading around his left eye and the dried blood around a swollen and split lip, and even then his face remains halfway hidden behind long bangs, and Minhyuk finds himself unable to move.

 

He’s seen Hyungwon’s scars before. He’s seen the bruises.

 

But they were never this bad.

 

He doesn’t even have to question who did it, or why. He knows, and Hyungwon’s refusal to meet his eyes tells him that he knows that Minhyuk knows, too.

 

It’s a mess.

 

Minhyuk rises to his feet and storms out without another word, taking off hurriedly as angry tears escapes his eyes.

 

None of them show up for dinner at the orphanage that night.

 

***

 

Changkyun remembers Kihyun’s first days in the hospital. He remembers staring at a boy that had always looked after him, lovingly, but never domineering, a boy who once radiated energy with happy smiles, a sharp tongue and a melodious voice. Kihyun had always been small, but his large presence always made up for his size. Not so much when he laid in the old hospital bed, pale, wheezing and covered in bandages that still smelled faintly of burned flesh and old copper. Changkyun had seen Kihyun shrink before his eyes, fading little by little instead of progressing as they had hoped.

 

He was out for nine days.

 

Changkyun showed up each morning, faithfully and steadfast, and only left in the evening when the nurse ushered him out with a scowl. He didn’t like her much. She always scowled at him and never did anything for Kihyun beyond the bare necessities. Changkyun tried to make her change the dressings once, when they looked red and old and rotten, but the nurse had only wrinkled her nose and left them until the doctor specifically told her to do it a few hours later.

 

She was just as corrupt as everyone else in this village, and Changkyun hated her for it.

 

The other guys visited a couple of times as well, always looking awkward and forlorn, but their intentions were good. Minhyuk had placed his hand on Changkyun’s shoulder and given it a little squeeze, a soft encouragement to remind him that they were all together in this. They all wanted Kihyun to get better, and they all fought for the same cause that had maimed their friend.

 

It helped a little, but it didn’t improve Kihyun’s condition.

 

In the quiet moments, when it was only the two of them in the room, Changkyun started to talk. Just little anecdotes, small moments from a shared childhood that Kihyun probably remembered even better than him, but it lessened his anxiety a little bit. When he talked about the Kihyun from his memories, he could convince himself that this broken boy on the bed was just an illusion, that Kihyun would be back soon enough and everything would be alright.

 

He knew it was a lie, but as he twirled Kihyun’s necklace between his fingers, playing with the silver and metal as if the chains were prayer beads, he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

 

***

 

Hoseok sees it all. He sees every new bruise on Hyungwon’s face, arms, neck, and he sees how it drives Minhyuk mad with rage. He sees Jooheon’s new obsessions, how gaunt his face becomes when he leaves the village for days and returns with new tales and ideas to make their lives better. He sees Changkyun’s protectiveness turn to overbearance, and his attention narrowing until his eyes hardly ever leave Kihyun. And Hoseok sees Kihyun noticing, how his gaze becomes sad and burdened with the growing suspicion that he is only a nuisance.

 

Finally Hoseok sees Hyunwoo. 

 

Hyunwoo doesn’t think anyone needs to see him. He is the oldest, almost a legal adult himself, and he is the biggest, strongest out of all of them. But Hoseok knows strength isn’t just about physical prowess. He wants to tell Hyunwoo, to reassure him that it’s okay to lean on others sometimes, and that they are all there for him whenever he needs them too.

 

But Hyunwoo has a set of opinions about how the world should be and how it works, and pouring his woes out to his friends isn’t a part of that system.

 

So Hoseok tries to help in more subtle ways – he makes sure Hyunwoo comes over for dinner a couple of times a week, he stops by the garage to keep him company sometimes when they haven’t seen each other for a while, he even recommends him to some of the old ladies complaining about excessive garden troubles.

 

It’s not enough, Hoseok knows it isn’t, but if he tries any harder, Hyunwoo might see through him and refuse his help altogether.

 

It’s a frustrating situation.

 

Everything seems to escalate these days, Hoseok thinks, and he doesn’t know if his gaze should be on Minhyuk and Hyungwon, Jooheon’s excursions, the interdependency between Changkyun and Kihyun, or Hyunwoo, who is slowly slipping away from the rest of the group as times go by.

 

 

Much like he keeps telling the other boys, Hoseok knows he is not alone in his worries.

 

They all know – there are no secrets between them, and Hoseok knows what they would give for each other if they had to.

 

But it’s not enough, not when they all have challenges to face and none of them are easing up.

 

Hoseok feels trapped in the middle, and he doesn’t know how to fix any of it.

 

***

 

Jooheon is sort of all over the place the first time they lock themselves inside the old, overgrown greenhouse to lure out their reward from the bluebirds. He has briefly told the others about this little project before, mentioned the bluebird flower and some extraordinary effects, but they had all been as dubious as he was the first time he heard about it.

 

Now, they gather around the dusty old working table and sets out the equipment Jooheon reads off of a piece of paper crumpled in his pocket. Pots, candles, bowls, pipes, all sorts of weird tools, then water and sponge plants, cloths, and more stuff than anyone besides Jooheon can keep track of.

 

They think they are indulging him now, entertaining his post-dinner whims because why not, if he is this excited they might as well let him.

 

Then they start brewing and Jooheon is positively bursting with anticipation.

 

He runs around the table, inspecting every part of the process and smelling, feeling, touching the different stages of the flower, even grabs a spare one to tuck it behind his own ear.

 

Changkyun says he looks like a girl, but Jooheon isn’t even paying attention at this point.

 

There is a sweet smell wafting through the air, pleasant and relaxing, and it makes even Hyunwoo smile over the mortar he uses to crush the petals. The air had been thick and dusty before, and there are no open windows or doors to let in fresh breaths, but suddenly it doesn’t matter as much anymore.

 

That is the beginning.

 

The night becomes long, and they shout, scream, laugh as the flower turns into liquid, swirling beautifully in a bronze bowl taken from an old shelf in Hyunwoo’s house. They take turns drinking it as they pass it around, first in small sips, then full gulps as they become giddy, eager, happy –

 

They all have worries, but when they sit there together, around the old table in a worn greenhouse outside the abandoned orphanage, they forget them for a little while and just enjoy each other, all the company, smiles, pleasant buzzes, unbothered faces and relaxed muscles.

 

In here, the world doesn’t seem so bad.

 

In here, they think they can conquer the world.

 

They swear it to each other, that first night, that they will be together forever, unyielding and loyal, them against everyone else.

 

They think it’s the start of something new, that everything will be alright.

 

That’s what they think that night.

 

But then the sun rises and their minds sober to the morning dew seeping through the weak door, reminding them of a world outside.

 

***

 

Hyunwoo is on the verge of crying when Jooheon finds him outside the clinic. He is perched on the steps, head buried in shaking arms, and Jooheon can hear his raspy breathing as he approaches.

 

“I take it he’s not getting better?” He says cautiously, not without sympathy. Hyunwoo shakes his head, twisting his hear in his hands, but doesn’t look up.

 

“It’s getting worse,” he says quietly. “He’s going to need surgery, soon.”

 

“Yeah?” Jooheon bites his lip. “That sounds alright. It should help, right?”

 

“It should…” Hyunwoo agrees, but shakes his head again a second later. “But he’s never going to get it. They need to commission materials from Central, and I can’t afford that. He’s not – “

 

Hyunwoo cuts himself off, swallowing hard. Takes a deep breath. Another.

 

Jooheon looks at the ground.

 

“This probably isn’t something you’d ever consider on your own, but…” he starts, and licks his lip. “But if you need a lot of money really quick – and this is for a good cause, so I suppose… There are ways, you know.”

 

“How?” Hyunwoo is ready to grasp any opportunity, but he doesn’t like Jooheon’s tone. Not at all.

 

“Some places in town have a lot of money,” Jooheon says slowly, and Hyunwoo frowns when he realizes where this is going.

 

“No,” he shakes. “I can’t do that. It’s not right.”

 

“Well, it’s not right of them to deny your uncle the operation he needs either,” Jooheon points out. “This isn’t too bad in comparison, no one’s dying. It’s the fastest, easiest – best way, at this point, honestly.”

 

“But it’s illegal, and morally reprehensible, besides…” Hyunwoo sighs and drags a hand across his face.

 

“I’m not trying to be a bad influence – “

 

“Of course you are.”

 

“ – but this isn’t a fair game,” Jooheon ignores him and continues unfazed. “And when the people with the best cards don’t play by the rules, the people with shit hands are gonna go down like a sinking ship. I’m just saying, unless you’re willing to let go of some of that Messiah complex, you are gonna lose this one, hyung.”

 

“No,” Hyunwoo shakes his head. “There must be a way, the – “

 

“The good guys always win?” Jooheon snorts. “This isn’t a fairytale, hyung. God, I wish it was, but delusions aren’t going to get us anywhere.”

 

“Not delusions, faith – “

 

“In what?” Jooheon interrupts him. “Is there anything to trust beyond ourselves? Come on hyung, I know it seems rough, but trust me, it’ll be alright. I’ll fix it all, I’ll get a weapon, pick a day, it’s okay. I’m here to help you.”

 

Hyunwoo stares at Jooheon. He is a brave little kid, he’ll give him that, in so many ways more mature than Hyunwoo himself, and he feels so selfish for even considering Jooheon’s suggestion. There is so much that could go wrong, such high stakes, and Jooheon shouldn’t have to be involved in Hyunwoo’s problems.

 

But he is also running out of options.

 

“Are you sure?” He asks carefully, almost regretting the words already, but he forces himself to remain steadfast. Maybe this is what he needs – maybe this is all there is.

 

Jooheon beams at him. “I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t serious!”

 

“That’s…” Hyunwoo isn’t good with words, but he tries to find the right ones anyway. “That’s amazing of you, Jooheon. Thanks a lot. I know uncle would be grateful, too.”

 

“Hey, he was the only one who ever cared about us kids up at the orphanage,” Jooheon smiles at him, punches him playfully in the shoulder, as if everything will be alright. “I figure we all owe him something.”

 

It’s true. Hyunwoo doesn’t know if his uncle cared about the orphanage because Hyunwoo had friends there, or if Hyunwoo has friends at the orphanage because his uncle cared so much.

 

It doesn’t matter, in the end.

 

Here they are.

 

Hyunwoo hopes he has made the right choice.

 

***

 

It’s even better than the first time.

 

The flames and the vibrating colours and the sweet aroma of the flowers and the sounds of his friends howling makes Minhyuk feel powerful, courageous, invincible. Able to take on the world, if he needs to – and he does.

 

The world is a shitty place and Minhyuk plans on fixing at least some of it, because he can’t just sit idly by and watch all this any longer. He wants to go out and fight this time, do his best to make a difference, help out.

 

At least he won’t be alone.

 

He thought he was, for a while, when he went from a beloved son to orphan overnight. He cried himself to sleep and didn’t listen to any adults and shouted at his friends. Hyungwon had stood by him then, faithful and tolerant, ready with reassuring words when Minhyuk span around himself in anger, and warm hugs when he curled into a sobbing ball.

 

Hyungwon was there for him, and Minhyuk tries his best to be there for Hyungwon now, but things are harder than when they were ten years old. More nuances to life, difficult choices, considerations, responsibilities, and so on.

 

Minhyuk wishes he could help Hyungwon.

 

Now, as he watches Hyungwon across the room, laughing, smiling unashamedly beneath the dancing fire and the dim moonlight, he thinks he knows how.

 

Hyungwon might not like it.

 

But Minhyuk will help him,

 

***

 

Changkyun remembers when Kihyun woke up after more than a week of stasis in that horrid hospital.

 

His eyes had fluttered open slowly, enough for Changkyun to straighten in his chair, a quick “hyung?” on his lips before the panic started.

 

Changkyun remembers the frightened expression, the terror, then the pain, and flailing limbs trying to defend an already broken body from invisible forces long passed, and then more pain and confusion and a shriek or a howl, sobs and gasps until he almost knelt on the bed as he tried to gather Kihyun in his arms before he hurt himself further.

 

Changkyun remembers murmuring softly while stroking greasy hair still matted by dust and debris, trying to remain steady and strong as Kihyun fell apart in his grip.

 

He remembers the smell of copper and the sounds of hitched breathing and the feel of nails digging into his arms and the shaking that threatened to take over his own body.

 

It had been terrifying and Changkyun is sure he screamed and cried as well, just as he realized he had to be the strong one this time, that roles had been reversed and Kihyun needed him. He needed, he _deserved_ a strong and stable pillar of support, someone he could lean on after all of this.

 

Changkyun remembers being scared. He remembers losing his innocence that day, letting it fall somewhere between his tears soaking Kihyun’s hair and never looking back, not once, not to this day.

 

He doesn’t want to remember, but he does. Changkyun remembers everything.

 

 

***

 

The rain falls more often now, not always harsh and noisy, sometimes just a soft drizzle, but it falls on the old roof with the same distant, rhythmic taps and low rumble. It seeps through the ceiling some places, where there are holes or the material has simply thinned out until there is nothing left but a flimsy layer that can’t even keep the winds out, much less falling water guided by gravity.

 

Hyungwon knows he can’t keep coming back here anymore. The fall is making his old house so much more frigid, unfriendly, and even as a hiding place it doesn’t work very well when he spends all his time avoiding wet spots and rubbing his arms to get warm.

 

But there is so much in this house he keeps coming back for.

 

Too many memories, too many enjoyable moments from the past.

 

They didn’t have any troubles when they lived here, and he almost feels like he can escape whatever mess he has landed himself in when he goes back here. Like a little refuge, a safe haven in between everything else that tears at him and threatens to tear him apart.

 

His father doesn’t come here anymore.

 

Minhyuk stops by, once in a while, if he is looking for Hyungwon. That’s okay, because Minhyuk has been here in the past too, and he knows – Minhyuk only tries to help.

 

But besides Minhyuk and the other guys, Hyungwon thinks of his father again, and it’s not easy. It’s not black and white.

 

He looks at the bruises on his arms and tries to convince himself that there is only one thing which is right, and what’s right shouldn’t leave marks on his skin.

 

He tries, he really does.

 

***

 

It’s the third time they escape into the greenhouse now, and they have started to make their own tradition to make the sessions more personal, more private. Minhyuk suggested the face paint, leftover paste and food dye turned into art, and they all make their individual designs on each other.

 

Changkyun is leaning back slightly in his seat, looking at the ceiling while Kihyun’s fingers trace patterns on his cheeks, simple, but tickling, and Changkyun finds himself enjoying the sensation as if he was a little kid again, the youngest, protected, cherished, without responsibilities.

 

His vision is swimming, as if he can’t control his eyes anymore, and they fly back and forth from Jooheon standing up at the end of the shed, and Hyunwoo on his left and Hoseok across from him and suddenly the roof, and then he closes his eyes and giggles a little. It’s so silly, all of this, them hiding in an old garden shack, the sweet smells and happy shouts, and he can’t even focus on one thing at the time because of some little, blue flower –

 

“Changkyunie is having a good time!”

 

He whips his head to the right, too suddenly, and now it’s his stomach that swims, but his mind is tracing the voice, that…

 

Kihyun is looking back at him, and he is smiling too, his eyes a little clearer, but still crinkling at the corners when his head wavers a little. His hair is matted with sweat and dirt and paint, and it all glistens enticingly in the flickering lights from the fire between them and Changkyun is very confused for a second.

 

Kihyun doesn’t talk –

 

No, Kihyun _hasn’t_ talked, not since the fire, but he just said –

 

But he doesn’t –

 

Why is he –

 

How –

 

“Hyung?” Changkyun asks, frowning, and he must look a mess, because Kihyun laughs at him like he used to do before, when they were kids, when Changkyun had a thousand useless questions about the color of the sky and kitten ears and shovels. Kihyun always knew the answers back then – or at least, he always gave Changkyun an answer, and Changkyun always accepted whatever he said.

 

Kihyun doesn’t answer his questions anymore, but Changkyun doesn’t have that many questions either. He has learned about the world in a harsh way.

 

And yet…

 

“Hyung?” He presses when Kihyun just smiles at him again, eyes full of mischief and affection. He isn’t saying anything else – did Changkyun imagine it? – but he looks at Changkyun in such a way that it couldn’t possibly be merely a figment of Changkyun’s imagination…

 

A memory?

 

“Hyung, did you just - ?” He can’t make himself say it, for whatever reason. Now that he thinks about it, mind fuddled and vision awry, he actually realizes that they never addressed it out loud. He never asked Kihyun, why don’t you talk? Or, what happened to your voice?

 

He just always assumed –

 

“Hyung!” Changkyun straightens and grabs Kihyun’s hands. Kihyun looks a bit surprised, but not scared or pained, never with Changkyun, just mildly amused. “Are you alright?”

 

Kihyun smiles, and he leans forward, planting a soft kiss on Changkyun’s forehead silently.

 

Changkyun looks back at him, confused, and his mind can’t quite seem to follow what’s going on, but this is good, everything is good, and  the world is in their favour again, just a little – that’s what he thinks, anyway. He knows he might be wrong.

 

He doesn’t want to think that he is wrong.

 

When Kihyun’s head drags forward again, Changkyun mirrors his movement and their foreheads collide softly, affectionately, and just for tonight, they are alright again.

 

***

 

Hyunwoo’s heart is hammering out a steady rhythm against his ribcage, hard and distracting and almost painful in its intensity, but he forces himself to swallow and keep his breathing under control. He can’t afford to falter, not now, not when they have already set the wheels in motion and he’s looking at the pawnbroker’s store, Jooheon next to him as a warm, comforting presence and the cold steel tucked against the waistband of his trousers.

 

There isn’t any way to go back, and he _can’t,_ because this is his last option. He couldn’t say how it came to this, because he has always been an honest, upright boy, polite to his elders, respectful and obedient. His only ever transgression is his attitude towards the soldiers, but that appears to him a morally admirable trait, illegal in theory, but fair in its intentions, and one he shares with the rest of the village.

 

Hyunwoo is a good man.

 

His uncle taught him how to be a good man.

 

Good men don’t steal from other people.

 

And yet here he is.

 

“It’s gonna be alright,” Jooheon assures him again, quietly, and pats his shoulder. It feels odd, because Hyunwoo is supposed to be the older one, the mature man who looks after his friends as if they are his brothers (they are, in all but blood), but Jooheon has taken care of everything up until this point, without complaint, without pity, and Hyunwoo can’t even bring himself to regret it. Jooheon knows his way around the law, the imposed rules and unfair judgements, and Hyunwoo isn’t too proud to defer to the younger’s experience.

 

But it still adds to the pile of strange and uncomfortable points about this entire situation.

 

Hyunwoo wishes he didn’t have to do this, but oh, he does. He knows he does. Every other option is exhausted, and if he wants to see his uncle open his eyes again, leave that hideous bed once more and actually smile because he has a reason to, and not just to appease Hyunwoo’s sad eyes, then yes, this is what he has to do. He knows it, and he is all too willing to compromise his conscience in order to succeed. He won’t kill anyone, he doesn’t think he could do such a thing, but hopefully the gun will be enough. There haven’t been any warriors in this village for a long time, only a scowling, unhappy and resigned bunch of individuals. It’s not something that should bring Hyunwoo relief, but in this situation, it does.

 

It’s one less hurdle.

 

He takes a final, deep breath and drags the old, white beanie with torn holes over his head.

 

The entire ordeal passes by in a blur – they run in, guns raised and voices demanding, and the man behind the counter looks bewildered but obeys when Hyunwoo gives him a hard stare, and suddenly he’s got a sack full of money in his arms, just like that.

 

He hears Jooheon shout brisk instructions at the other customers behind him, keeping them in check and quiet, and hopefully they won’t have to hurt anyone.

 

Hyunwoo’s heart doesn’t stop hammering, but his mind rushes through the situation with a fervent detachedness, accelerated on adrenaline, yet removed from what he’s doing, because this _isn’t Hyunwoo._ He has crossed a line today, and if he let himself, he would just break down and cry, apologize and pay the poor, scared clerk back this very second.

 

But he can’t.

 

He really can’t.

 

Instead, he finds himself staring over the barrel of the gun, asking quietly, oddly composed, but with a brutally cold voice that sounds nothing like his own – “is this everything?”

 

Everything. He shouldn’t take everything. These people need to live, too. Hyunwoo just made their life so much more difficult, he may not have doomed them, but he certainly robbed months of hard work from them, and it’s enough to make him sick.

 

But they will live.

 

His uncle won’t.

 

He convinces himself, repeats it in his mind as the man nods helplessly, panicked and without looking at Hyunwoo, his eyes focused on the gun sticking up in his nose.

 

Hyunwoo really wants to believe him, so he does.

 

He needs to leave before he crumbles, and he only gives a brief shout to Jooheon, and then they are both out, tearing off their makeshift masks and cradling the goods between them, taking off around the corner and disappearing before there is even a commotion behind them.

 

Hyunwoo keeps breathing hard for the next few hours, but when he looks at the pile of money emptied on his bed, he allows himself to smile, at last.

 

***

 

They make the tattoos spontaneously, not quite sober, but wild and anticipating. It is another one of Jooheon’s ideas to tribute their brotherhood, to tie them together beyond friendship and a common tragedy. His ideas have exacerbated with their use of the bluebird, and what was at first a welcome escape has become a defining part of their little group. It should be marked.

 

Hoseok and Changkyun are the ones with the steadiest hands and surest concentration, so they are elected to do it. They aren’t too excited about it, because regardless of how much they drink and inhale and rub, the process will be painful. None of them wants to cause each other pain.

 

“It’s not pain,” Jooheon says. “It’s dedication. It’s to show our devotion to each other, and the body will heal.”

 

Changkyun gives him a little glare at this, but no one else takes notice. It sounds suspiciously like something he has pulled from a book, or one of the old stories about the bluebird’s power, but no one objects to his claims.

 

They agree on a design pretty easily.

 

The soldiers use the cross as their symbols, so they decide to tilt the cross on its side, toppling it, making an ‘x’ as the base. It’s simple enough, but they are satisfied by the idea, and start making more elaborate versions on pieces of scrap paper. Not too much, just enough to make them more individual and unique, without compromising the integrity of the unification concept.

 

They almost take it too seriously, and when Hoseok points it out, even Jooheon laughs. There is another bowl of bluebird at the table, waiting for them when they are done, and it will be a welcome reward.

 

They mix soot and crushed petals with milk in separate bowls, then sterilize the knives and bamboo sticks.  Hyunwoo winces a little when he looks at the instruments, but Hoseok gives him a reassuring smile over the fire.

 

“You can back out,” he says while Jooheon is preoccupied on the other side of the room. “It’s not like… I don’t know, it’s just fun.”

 

“It’s not ‘just fun’, and you know it,” Hyunwoo points out. “He talks like a possessed man, but he’s kinda right. Where would we all be without each other?”

 

It’s as rhetorical as it’s true, and Hyunwoo agrees to do his first to get the entire thing over and done with. He is a secret romantic, and strips off his shirt to let Hoseok draw a little mark on the left side of his chest, just above his heartbeat.

 

His skin is already glistening from sweat and flushed in the heat of the isolated house, but Hoseok’s gentle hands juxtaposed with the sharp bite of the knife makes Hyunwoo tense up, and by the time they are done he is possible drenched.

 

Kihyun tosses him a towel before turning back to Changkyun patiently.

 

His look isn’t mirrored by their makeshift artist.

 

“Really?” Changkyun takes a step back and gives Kihyun a cautious look. “But that’s… It’s so close to the jugular, hyung, I might hurt you – “

 

But Kihyun silences him by leaning forward and grabbing his hands. His eyes are dark in the fluttering light, dilated, but warm and fond. He smiles, small and sincere and gives Changkyun’s hands a little squeeze.

 

Changkyun knows what that means.

 

“It will be so visible too, though,” he mumbles quietly. “What if they see it and… I don’t know, they might piece some stuff together…”

 

Kihyun squeezes his hands again and shakes his head.

 

Let them come. There is nothing else they can do to him.

 

Changkyun bites his lip, but sits down on the crate next to Kihyun, who pats his cheek before turning away to bare his throat.

 

Unblemished. Pale. Vulnerable.

 

Changkyun sighs once before making the first diagonal cut beneath the ear.

 

On the other side of the greenhouse, Minhyuk demands an ‘x’ in the center of his palm. Hoseok raises his eyebrows.

 

“That’s gonna hurt like a bitch for a long time,” he says. “Also, I’ve seen where you put your hands. It’s gonna get infected, not joking.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Minhyuk assures him with a grin, and Hoseok almost believes him. “My hand is my only weapon. It’s where I want you guys to stay.”

 

Hoseok grumbles a little, saying they are all thinking too hard about this, but when he shakes his head it is in fondness, and he succumbs to all their wishes.

 

Minhyuk whines and complains throughout the entire process, but surprisingly sits still when Hoseok drags rough lines along the coal marks across his palm, drawing a pattern that eventually becomes a stylized ‘x’ underneath droplets of blood and burning flesh. Jooheon almost tosses a broken flower pot at him when he screeches the first time the coated bamboo straw is pushed into the scar, but Hoseok gives him a glare and barks out that this job is difficult enough without Jooheon disturbing the ‘client’ even further.

 

They all know Jooheon is going to be the worst, despite his bravado and excitement about the unity he tries to create. He might have his ideals, dreams and fierce loyalty, but none of those erase the inherent squeamishness Jooheon hides behind a frail mask.

 

Minhyuk, on the other hand, projects a sunny and ditzy visage, prone to random bursts of emotion and incessant wails whenever something displeases him. His behaviour doesn’t change, but he is smiling throughout the entire process, and when it’s Hyungwon’s turn, he gives him a thumbs up from his unmarked hand and tells him that it’s not as bad as it looks, honestly.

 

Hyungwon ends up getting his mark behind his shoulder blades, which Changkyun says is “fucking odd” while he works, but Hyungwon is unfazed.

 

“At least it’s better than my hand,” he says with a pointed look towards Minhyuk, who doesn’t even pretend to be scandalized.

 

“You don’t appreciate my sense of poetic… Artistry,” he claims, after some consideration because he talks a lot, but eloquence is hard when you have a crushed flower swimming through your veins and a throbbing mark in your palm.

 

Hyungwon only shakes his head affectionately.

 

Jooheon proves to be as much of a challenge as anticipated.

 

He tries to promise himself and Hoseok to be cool, steady and composed, bangs his head against the wall a couple of times just to demonstrate his resolve, but as soon as the knife touches his skin, he screams and yanks his arm away.

 

“That hurt!” He says when Hyunwoo raises an eyebrow at him, but Hoseok rolls his eyes and grabs his arm again.

 

“I barely even touched you,” he says. “Look, there’s like one drop of blood here. Calm down or I will smack you down.”

 

Hyunwoo decides to help and brings his chair over to hold Jooheon down, and Minhyuk and Kihyun join him soon after. Hoseok even sits down on Jooheon’s lap to make him sit still, and in the end, through team effort, they successfully plant an ‘x’ on Jooheon’s bicep and releases him to crawl into a corner.

 

When there is only the two of them left, Changkyun approaches Hoseok with determination and points to a spot by his right ear. Slightly behind, slightly lower down.

 

“Here,” he says, almost aggressively, and Hoseok frowns.

 

“Okay,” he says, slowly. “Whatever you say.”

 

Changkyun doesn’t look back, but he knows Kihyun is watching him from the corner.

 

He is sure someone else notices as well (if they haven’t, they will) but Changkyun doesn’t mind. He knows what he’s doing.

 

Jooheon stands up eventually, recovered and in good spirits, and he starts talking animatedly, picking up a bluebird and holding it out with reverence. He has been drinking more of the juice, but so has everyone else.

 

“Now we have reclaimed our home,” Jooheon says, and he makes that voice again, the one that sounds very poetic and meaningful and old. “They don’t know the secret, but we do! We have reclaimed the land, reclaimed the flower, reclaimed our time! It’s just about us now.”

 

Hoseok isn’t quite done with Changkyun yet, but he appreciates the sentiment Jooheon stirs up with the others.

 

Out of everyone, Hoseok finds Changkyun to be the easiest to work with, because he doesn’t twitch, complain or sob. He just sits there and takes it, and it would be a little unsettling if he didn’t know about Changkyun’s stubborn determination. It’s still a little weird, and by the time he steps back from the contoured mark behind Changkyun’s ear, he thinks he won’t be able to return the favour just simply because he is tired.

 

Though not as tired as before, he thinks.

 

This entire…. Thing… It helps. It brings them closer.

 

Hoseok can deal with the physical tiredness after long nights as long as they become happier from it.

 

When they stumble out in the morning, Hoseok has a mark on his shoulder, and he smiles when he sees it in the mirror.

 

***

 

Hyunwoo oversleeps, and he knows he shouldn’t, but it doesn’t matter that much, because today is the day.

 

He was waited long enough, and now he can finally pay for his uncle’s operation, and the money should be clean, acceptable to the weaselling clinic staff, and things are looking up enough for Hyunwoo to allow himself to grin on his way over.

 

But then it all comes crashing down again.

 

He is too late.

 

The bed is empty, old clothes folded on top of clean sheets, and even that damned tank is turned off.

 

Hyunwoo knows what it means.

 

He is too late.

 

And he didn’t even get to say good bye.

 

He glances down at the bag in his hands, and suddenly all the notes bound together by strings and ties are worth absolutely nothing. Just a few weeks ago, they could solve all his problems, and now they are just scrap pieces of paper, because they can’t do anything useful anymore.

 

Hyunwoo is too late.

 

There is a bluebird lying on top of the bag, and Hyunwoo takes it out to put it on top of the little pile of clothes.

 

“I’m sorry, uncle.”

 

He upends the bag over the bed, watching the green notes fly and scatter over the bed and the floor, useless as always, and then he pulls a lighter from his pocket.

 

Later, Hyunwoo might regret burning the money, but what could those sums ever get him? They didn’t give him what he wanted the most. Money didn’t save his uncle. Money won’t bring him back.

 

What more can money do for him, anyway?

 

It’s ironic, he thinks, because fire killed his uncle. _Their_ fire killed his uncle.

 

Now Hyunwoo is burning his sickbed.

 

There is a noise and some trampling outside the door, and then someone shouts, but Hyunwoo doesn’t care. He feels himself crying, oddly, because he hasn’t cried in years, but it hits him now, that his uncle is _gone,_ and he couldn’t even do anything, he tried, he went beyond everything his uncle ever taught him in order to save his life, and yet… Hyunwoo is stands over all that remains, a burning pile of clothes and sad memory fading at the edges with every passing day.

 

They burst in soon enough, but Hyunwoo doesn’t acknowledge their hasty steps, frantic yells or the hands grabbing at his shoulders and pulling him away. He is in a daze, still looking at the flames, burning yellow, orange, even blue and green from the ink on the notes. It reminds him of something.

 

It’s like the greenhouse, more or less.

 

Dancing fire and blurring colours, a stuffy smell and turbulent emotions.

 

Except not quite.

 

In the greenhouse, he is happy, hopeful, he laughs and he smiles and he dreams. And he is there with his friends –

 

His friends.

 

His friends are all he has now.

 

But not right now. Right now, he is alone in the midst of a crowd of black soldiers dragging him out, shaking him roughly and shouting in his ears. He finds himself in the middle of a cold, rusty machine that wants to process him and rip him bare until he conforms to standard measurements, but Hyunwoo is isn’t going to.

 

“Did you start the fire?” One of them asks angrily once they make it outside. Hyunwoo doesn’t answer, and the two soldiers pinning his arms to his back drives him to his knees.

 

“Did you start the fire?!” They ask again, more aggressively, but still Hyunwoo doesn’t answer.

 

No one ever answered him. He doesn’t have to give them any courtesies.

 

His uncle is dead, and it’s because of them.

 

They killed him.

 

Hyunwoo has nothing but death to offer them in return.

 

He kneels in the dust, the cold night air on his face and harsh hands at his shoulders, but he is not going to say anything. He has nothing to say to them. They can do whatever they want to him right now, because it won’t hurt any more than walking into that sick room and seeing an empty bed where his uncle used to rest.

 

***

 

Minhyuk mulls over his decision for a long time before consulting Hoseok and Changkyun. They hesitate, interrogate him, and point out the risks and flaws of a simple, but effective idea.

 

Eventually they both agree.

 

It’s the closest thing to justice they are going to get.

 

“Don’t tell Kihyun,” Changkyun says afterwards. Minhyuk gives him a curious glance, but Hoseok is the one who questions him.

 

“Why not?” He shakes his head, slightly. “No one wants him to do anything, but he deserves to know what’s going on anyway. Changkyun, I didn’t expect you, of all people – “

 

“It’s not about that,” Changkyun interrupts, frowning. “I just… He will be worried. If he thinks we are going to start a fire. He would be scared.”

 

Minhyuk nods at that. He understands, he really does, why Kihyun wouldn’t want to see his friends near a fire.

 

Hoseok doesn’t agree.

 

“And shouldn’t he be worried?” He says, with more force than the other two expected. “We’re putting ourselves in danger, him not knowing isn’t gonna change that. He’d be right to be scared. He’ll find out sooner or later anyway, and I think us holding it from him is gonna hurt a lot more than a scare will. He’s gonna think we’re excluding him because he’s a crip – “

 

“Don’t say that!” Changkyun cuts him off, again, because no one is allowed to use that word about Kihyun. “That’s not why, we just – “

 

“That’s what he’s gonna think,” Hoseok retorts. “It’s a shit situation, people are gonna get hurt either way. I’d rather have him twinning his thumbs than think we’re leaving him behind.”

 

“He doesn’t have to know,” Changkyun insists, but he isn’t looking Hoseok in the eye anymore. “We don’t have to tell him we started it.”

 

“You think he’s not gonna find out by himself?” Hoseok sighs, exasperated. “You know better than that. And this is just the beginning – once we start, we’re not gonna stop. You realize this, right? And how long do you wanna keep him in the dark? If you don’t let him know now, you might as well never. We’re in this together, we promised.”

 

“Hoseok’s right,” Minhyuk agrees when Changkyun remains silent, staring at the ground. “I know you want to protect him, but it’s only going to make things worse in the long run. Besides, he’s stronger than you think. He’ll be fine.”

 

“Then why don’t you tell Hyungwon?” Changkyun fires back, and Minhyuk’s eyes widen.

 

“That’s different!” He claims immediately. “I’m doing this _for_ Hyungwon. He would try to stop us if he knew.”

 

“Because he doesn’t want you to do it?” Changkyun stares at him intently, but Minhyuk won’t back down, not on this.

 

“He doesn’t want to realize that this is necessary,” he argues. “That bastard is killing him, and I won’t let that happen. Hyungwon will understand in time. Postponing it will only be worse for Kihyun.”

 

In the end, Changkyun surrenders, though he isn’t happy with it.

 

But when he tells Kihyun later that day, awkwardly and half-apologetic, the betrayed expression on Kihyun’s face makes him glad he didn’t wait.

 

He has seen worse than this. He has experienced worse than this.

 

But he doesn’t think he’s ever seen Kihyun look this upset because of him.

 

***

 

Occasionally, Hyungwon tries to tell Minhyuk about the good things his father does, but most of the time, his quiet words are ignored. Minhyuk just turns around and groans, ruffling his hair or kicking the dust in frustration.

 

Maybe it’s because Hyungwon always says it like an excuse, mumbled, almost embarrassed, insecure. As if he doesn’t quite believe in it himself.

 

“You just want him to be a decent man because he is your father,” Minhyuk says. “Everything he does is selfish, and cowardly. Don’t you think he would treat you better if you followed his orders like an obedient dog? He’s just scared that the shitheads will come for him next because of you.”

 

“I’m not doing anything bad, though,” Hyungwon says, weakly, and it’s mostly right, but any sort of deviation is a crime in this society, and the argument is feeble even to his own ears.

 

“According to them, you are,” Minhyuk points out, truthfully enough, and Hyungwon always ends up wishing he didn’t start this conversation.

 

It never leads to anything anyway.

 

***

 

It’s cold in the bleak, worn cell, and it smells like something musty and old mixed with strange body odours Hyunwoo does not want to identify. The barred window is open, letting in the chilly autumn air without refreshing the stuffiness in the least, but if nothing else, it lets a thin beam of moonlight stretch across the floor before the bare cot. It doesn’t really add to the appeal, but Hyunwoo appreciates the sense of structure it gives the room, and it provides him with a tiny bit of distraction, a pattern to trace between the cobblestones, spots to count on the wooden panels, stuff like that.

 

He can’t sleep. Not in here, and not right now.

 

He didn’t sleep at all last night, because every time he closed his eyes he saw the fire again, the one burning the stolen money, the face of the terrified clerk he’d robbed to get it all, his friends dancing around the table in the greenhouse, his uncle’s face the last time he visited, ashen grey and sleeping fitfully –

 

Too much, it’s overwhelming.

 

Hyunwoo doesn’t know what he’s done, but it’s not good.

 

He fucked things up for himself, and is left with nothing at all.

 

Where will he go from here?

 

They never said how long they are going to keep him. Just for a few days, weeks, months? Probably not, but Hyunwoo doesn’t know what he will do once he gets out.

 

He had a goal. He had something to work towards, a purpose.

 

That is ripped from him now, stolen away in the night and left him with a gaping hole spewing sorrow into his chest and making his eyes tear up with regular intervals until there is nothing left to cry.

 

He fucked up.

 

He’s facing the consequences of it all now.

 

***

 

Changkyun and Hoseok cover their faces, but Minhyuk wants an unobscured view of the chaos they are about to unleash, and merely pulls his hood up to cover his identifiable hair. They have already collected the gasoline, borrowed it off of Hyunwoo’s garage earlier that day, and as the night looms they set out to do their work.

 

Minhyuk leads the way with purposeful strides, quiet and fast, going around and approaching from the back, avoiding the main streets and busiest alleys. Even if it’s late, and most people should be inside by now, they aren’t taking any chances.

 

They can’t afford to.

 

This is for all the unfairness, all the abuse, all the injustice they have ever caused this village in general, and their friends in particular.

 

Hoseok’s brother would have been here if it wasn’t for them.

 

Kihyun would still be walking and talking and singing, instead of shrinking underneath the shadows of the orphanage while the rest of them move on and Changkyun falls with him.

 

Hyunwoo’s uncle would still be alive.

 

Hyunwoo wouldn’t be in jail.

 

Minhyuk’s parents would still be alive.

 

Hyungwon’s father would actually act like a dad.

 

Hyungwon’s father is the only one who was given a choice, and he made the wrong one.

 

Now his son suffers the consequences every day, victim to unreasonable words and harsh blows, torn between family loyalty and a belief in a better world.

 

Minhyuk didn’t want to force Hyungwon to choose, not before today.

 

He’s making the decision for him, tonight.

 

They are hiding behind a corner, watching out for any stragglers, soldiers, unfortunate witnesses but seeing no one. The lights are still on upstairs, and they wait patiently until the windows grow dark some minutes later. Then Minhyuk nods at the other two, and they take off in different directions with their bottles and matchsticks, and that’s when vengeance begins.

 

***

 

Kihyun swore to Changkyun he would stay still, wait at the greenhouse until they returned.

 

Well, by the greenhouse.

 

And Kihyun is sitting by the greenhouse, perched on an old crate overlooking the little village below swept in darkness. It’s a cloudy night, without the comfort of shining light from the stars or the moon, and Kihyun vaguely notices the goosebumps forming on his bare arms.

 

He should have brought a sweater, but he can’t bring himself to go back in to get one now, not even when his crutches are leaning against the wall next to him and so easily within his reach.

 

He is looking down, attentively keeping his eyes plastered around the area he knows his friends are haunting. It’s all dark right now, but he knows there is a building that will soon be aglow with angry flames, and he needs to watch when that happens.

 

It’s not going to make a difference, he knows, him sitting up here, isolated and alone while his friends cause mayhem in the town below. But he doesn’t want to hide away in the house, not knowing what’s going on, if they succeed, if the entire town catches on fire, if they come back with satisfied grins or angry glares –

 

Then there is a pitch of orange between the black and grey shadows of the uniform houses below. It stands out like a sore thumb, and Kihyun is able to watch it for three whole seconds before his heart seizes up and his eyes sees beyond the view and towards something else.

 

He sees his friends, caught between the flames, screaming and suffering, alone and trapped, caught in their own traps, and then there are ten, hundred, a thousand black-clad soldiers standing at the edge of the fire. They laugh at them, hysterical cackles emanating from behind identical masks, and when Minhyuk falls to his knees they kick him in the face until he rolls over and disappears into the embers of a fallen building. Hoseok throws a punch, but his arm burns and crumbles before he can even touch the soldiers, and the ashes creep up his shoulder and around his torso, blown away by the wind until Hoseok is gone as well, and there is just Changkyun.

 

Changkyun, who looks him in the eye, and whispers something, to him, again and again, like a mantra, and it takes some time before Kihyun realizes what he says.

 

_“Hyung, save me.”_

 

***

 

They look at the blazes licking up the side of the building and the soldiers stumbling around in their half-dressed glory with a slight satisfaction. Light is flickering behind the windowpane where they painted an ‘x’ before lighting the first flame, casting an ominous shadow on the ground beneath.

 

Mostly, their faces are grim, impassive, but even Minhyuk can’t ignore the glimmer of pleasure and a growing sense of pride after striking back, finally, resisting their tormentors and beating them with their own weapon. There should be no happiness in retribution, but this is also retaliation, and a hatred that has been brewing for four years has finally risen with vengeance.

 

It’s not going to stop with this.

 

They don’t know how this will end, whose blood will be spilt and who ends up withering in the dust.

 

But they do know that they will never give in.

 

They have started something, and they are going to see it through, one way or another.

 

“This is it, guys.”

 

Hoseok makes a face, and he thinks about his brother. The man he lost, the protector he yearns to be, what could have been if things didn’t change back then.

 

It’s a useless scenario by now.

 

Changkyun sees something else in the fires.

 

He remembers when he was much younger, both in age and in spirit, when Kihyun asked him to come to the church, but he refused because he wanted to stay at home with Hoseok and Minhyuk, who promised him hot cocoa and blanket fortresses. That was the last day Kihyun called him a brat with such fondness, ran around the stairs to wrestle him to the ground and tell him to behave while he was gone. Changkyun didn’t even think twice about it.

 

This time it’s not _them_ making a statement through fire.

 

 _They_ should watch their back.

 

They have too many enemies sleeping to be so careless.

 

***

 

Hyungwon stumbles out of the house along with everyone else after he hears the panicked shouts and instructions rolling between the soldiers. He smells the smoke and feels the heat through his thin nightclothes, and doesn’t even grab his shoes on the way out.

 

He doesn’t understand anything, and no one pays him any attention as he stumbles out, collapsing on the gravel outside the burning building.

 

There aren’t a lot of people out here, a couple of soldiers and three neighbours who has come out to see what’s going on.

 

He looks back inside, scouts for his father, and briefly considers going back in.

 

Then he asks himself why he should – and then he asks why he shouldn’t.

 

He doesn’t have to ponder this for long though, because he sees two more soldiers exiting through the front door, dragging his father between them, and there is no pleased or disappointed reaction through his brain, just acceptance.

 

They wouldn’t have gone through the effort to drag him out.

 

If he didn’t wake up, he would still be in there – what if he was trapped? No one would come for him.

 

He would die.

 

That’s when it hits, and he lets himself fall back on the hard ground.

 

He could have died, just now, and it has taken him ten adrenaline-filled minutes to realize –

 

His life has been too short, hasn’t it? What has he done? He still has things to do, friends to talk to, fights, love, it’s –

 

He’s too confused by everything.

 

But he almost _died._

It’s a frightening thought, one he can’t let go.

 

He sits up and looks around again. The street is more crowded now, more people evacuating their homes in case the fire spreads, some have come to watch, and some –

 

Hyungwon catches a glimpse of silvery-blond hair just whipping past a corner, just behind the crowds, and his stomach sinks, because he knows who that is. He thinks he understands now.

 

***

 

Minhyuk feels his heart stop for a second when he sees Hyungwon stumble out of the burning house.

 

He wasn’t supposed to be there.

 

He was supposed to be back home, at his real home, the place on the outskirts of the village with the garden and old swings and his mother’s pictures –

 

Minhyuk didn’t intend to kill anyone, but he didn’t care that he put that bastard and his accomplices in danger.

 

Hyungwon, on the other hand….

 

Minhyuk almost hurt him, and as he looks at Hyungwon’s shocked face peering back into the flames, watching almost in a trance as they carry his father out – Minhyuk understands now, he _did_ hurt Hyungwon.

 

He doesn’t want to regret it, because he started something, something good, something _they_ deserved, and yet…

 

Yet…

 

He can’t stop his stomach tumbling as he thinks about Hyungwon.

 

For a moment he sees Kihyun, shaking and holding back his tears while Changkyun helps him walk across the common room at the orphanage, he sees Hoseok, who had all but disappeared for a while after his brother’s death, and he sees Hyunwoo bent over a hospital bed and a dying man.

 

Then he sees Hyungwon again, and he sees it all in Hyungwon.

 

It becomes too much, and Minhyuk turns around, avoiding Changkyun and Hoseok’s eyes even when he feels them turn to him.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says instead and runs off into the night.

 

***

 

Kihyun runs, stumbles, falls down the stairs etched beneath the streets, going down to the center of the village and the burning fire he sees all the way to the bottom level as it blazes red and orange in the middle of the black night.

 

He isn’t really thinking straight, and vaguely knows this in the back of his head, but can’t make himself to that little, rational voice telling him to stop and go back.

 

The others will be fine, it says. You can’t do anything. Not with those broken legs and without a voice to cry out.

 

But all he sees is the fire, and he thinks back to that last fire, to himself as he lay beneath the beam crying out for help and screaming in pain from burns and broken bones.

 

He thinks about his friends, right now, down there, in danger. He thinks about Changkyun, sweet, innocent, determined Changkyun, who’s no older than Kihyun was back then.

 

He thinks about Changkyun’s life ending tonight, about _them_ and how they could break him, how they command the flames, and how they could send them towards Changkyun, and Kihyun wouldn’t be there to help –

 

The crutches are too slow. His arms are getting tired and don’t do much. He throws one of the crutches away, and his right leg immediately crumbles a little more as it loses the support, pain shooting up from his knee and towards his back, but Kihyun grits his teeth and carries on.

 

He must reach them, he has to, he has to help them so they end up like him.

 

They can’t.

 

The other crutch falls to the ground and Kihyun nearly follows, but when both his legs hurt the same he finds a twisted equilibrium that somehow keeps him upright, and it should amaze him, at least surprise him, but his mind is too busy to even notice anymore.

 

He sees a flash of bright hair flash past ahead of him, running East, towards, the forest, and it has to be either Minhyuk or Hoseok. Where are the others? Are they all leaving? Are they trying to escape the fire?

 

Kihyun has to help them.

 

He tries to call out, but he can’t, and as soon as he tries to croak out something, a gasp, a word, a scream, his throat explodes and contracts all at the same time, and for a second he forgets to breathe.

 

His legs and lower back shriek at him, wanting to fall apart right then and there, and the nausea drives Kihyun against the wall, just for a second. But he can’t stop, he won’t.

 

He needs to help his friends.

 

He takes off again, ignoring the cold and hot stabs in his legs, and follows the pale shadow out of the village.

 

His vision is blurring, and all he sees is black, green, brown – blue, there is a field of blue beneath him, and it’s almost like those nights in the greenhouse, familiarly disorientating and the same colours. But those nights aren’t filled with pain and worry and sadness, not like now, and Kihyun lets out a sob as he crashes towards the ground.

 

His knees are already breaking but they collide with the damp grass and he almost topples over – and then there are gentle arms around his shoulders, guiding him to a warm and solid chest instead of the dewy forest floor.

 

 _Changkyun…._ Kihyun only thinks it, because he can’t say anything, but he knows it must be Changkyun, Changkyun, sweet Changkyun. Changkyun, who always comes to save him. Changkyun always knows.

 

He exhales shakily and lets his eyes fall closed.

 

Changkyun is okay.

 

“Oh, Kihyunie-hyung,” the words are tender in his ears, but they are not from Changkyun’s familiar baritone.

 

It’s a voice he knows well, but he is disoriented, tired, in agony, and he expected Changkyun – he _wanted_ Changkyun – so it takes a moment to recognize his saviour.

 

_Jooheon._

At least Jooheon is safe.

 

Where had Jooheon been? Kihyun doesn’t even know, and he didn’t realize until now, and that burns his chest in a different way than his trek down the mountain has done, but he can’t help but think back –

 

Where is Changkyun?

 

Is he safe?

 

He wants to ask Jooheon, maybe he knows, but all he manages is a small gasp and tight airways, and he must be moving restlessly, because Jooheon’s arms tighten around him and he makes hushed noises into Kihyun’s ears.

 

“It’s okay, hyung, you’re alright,” he says, but that’s not what Kihyun worries about. He knows he is not alright. And he knows that’s how it’s going to stay. But Changkyun, he still has a chance –

 

“Whatever did you do to yourself, hyung?” Jooheon is stroking his hair softly, and Kihyun doesn’t have the energy to even squirm anymore. He lets his body crumble, useless as it is, in Jooheon’s arms, and he can’t stop the tears when they slip out of his closed eyes.

 

“Does Changkyun know where you are?”

 

No. No, he doesn’t. And Kihyun doesn’t know where he is either.

 

He shakes his head and brings a trembling hand up to grab at Jooheon’s shirt. Cotton, too thin, not enough for the approaching winter months. It gets cold during the night.

 

Kihyun is only out in a short-sleeved shirt himself.

 

He doesn’t have any sort of control on anything anymore.

 

He weeps into Jooheon’s shirt and prays that, even if he is too tired to fight, it will turn out alright, somehow.

 

He prays, but he doesn’t have faith. He hasn’t had any faith since he woke up in that hospital bed, a lifetime ago.

 

***

 

Hyungwon knows he is a mess.

 

He looks a mess, he feels a mess, he behaves like a mess.

 

His father nearly died tonight.

 

 _He_ nearly died tonight.

 

And it was – he know it was – _Minhyuk._

He isn’t quite surprised, and he sort of expected something to happen for a while. Trouble has been brewing for months, if not years, and Hyungwon can read Minhyuk better than anyone.

 

And yet.

 

He isn’t sure if the gnawing feeling in his stomach is betrayal, or shame, or fear.

 

Or all of them.

 

He doesn’t want to be mad at Minhyuk, but how could he do this?

 

***

 

Hoseok hasn’t cried since his brother died.

 

He doesn’t remember having any parents, but his brother was always there for him, and he was the burning sun and calming moon of Hoseok’s childhood when life got tough for the poor boys at the orphanage. He was a big brother to everyone, but to Hoseok, he was more than that. A best friend, guide, protector, purpose and goal, all in one, and everything Hoseok knew was his brother.

 

The night _they_ took him away, Hoseok cried.

 

The day after _they_ took him away, Hoseok kept crying.

 

And he kept crying for a week after that. Then he didn’t have any more tears left. But inside, he still cried for another month.

 

He hasn’t cried since.

 

But tonight he cries.

 

His tears fall for Hyungwon, who got caught between his father and his friends too many times, whose skin is no longer pale, but a patchwork of scars and scabs and bruises, with an even more tortured heart to go with it.

 

He cries for Minhyuk, who sees all the suffering in the village and the world, who only wants to help, but doesn’t know how. He tries, bless his heart, but is he only creating new problems to erase the old ones? Hoseok doesn’t know, and he knows that Minhyuk doesn’t know, and he sees how it weighs on his shoulders whenever Hyungwon stumbles over with new wrinkles under his eyes and fidgety hands.

 

Tonight he also lets himself weep for Hyunwoo, who is still in a cell because he allowed himself to be consumed by grief for a small second. Hyunwoo is alone now, just like the rest of them, and all of his efforts were in vain. It’s unfair, Hoseok thinks, and he knows how painful it is to lose your family. Hyunwoo didn’t deserve this. None of them did.

 

And right now, as he takes Kihyun’s shivering, cold body from Jooheon’s back and hears mirrored sharp breaths from Kihyun and Changkyun, he cries for them. Kihyun’s broken heart, Changkyun’s determination and Jooheon’s courage. Where did it get any of them?

 

In a corner, at the orphanage by the mountain, huddling together searching for comfort and warmth and protection. And not really finding any of it.

 

Changkyun was right about Kihyun. He always is, and Hoseok can’t help but feel guilty as Changkyun trails next to him up the stairs towards the sleeping area. He reaches for Kihyun’s knee, supported by Hoseok’s arms, but then he stops himself and retracts the hand. It’s the frailest Hoseok has ever seen Changkyun, and it scares him so badly.

 

Only hours ago, they were paying _them_ back for all the pain they caused, fighting fire with fire and celebrating the beginning of the end. They were kings.

 

And now they are here.

 

Right where they started, and it doesn’t feel any better after all.

 

Hoseok shakes his head to himself and gently lowers Kihyun onto one of the beds. His eyes are still closed, but he is trembling and whimpering and sweating clammy, cold beads that mix with old tear trails, and Hoseok feels ashamed, but he doesn’t want to look at him right now.

 

Changkyun does not share this opinion, and the minute Kihyun is securely deposited on the bed, he crouches down next to Kihyun’s head and grabs his hand softly, but urgently.

 

It’s a scene Hoseok has seen before, briefly, because he only stopped by the hospital once, too consumed in his own despair at his brother’s murder, but this is enough to send him back in time and it _hurts._

“Kihyunnie-hyung,” Changkyun mumbles thickly, and Hoseok knows he is crying too. They are all crying a little bit, tonight. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have done this, you know I didn’t want to hurt you…. Why did you leave – “

 

Hoseok can’t listen to this anymore.

 

He storms out and down the stairs, running away from the choking emotions filling the small house and everywhere he looks. He wipes the back of his hand across his eyes, drags it, probably harder than necessary, like he wants to erase everything he has seen tonight. It doesn’t matter if he closes his eyes and his vision blacks. He still sees everything.

 

The air outside is cold, crisp, and it feels like a welcome rush in his chest once he finally stumbles out. He tries to calm himself by breathing hard, slow and steady…

 

It works, just for a little bit. He can still see the grey smoke rising from the center of their village below the orphanage, but the fire is mostly out, and the valley is drawn in shades of grey and black. Lifeless, almost.

 

A long sigh from behind demands his attention. When he turns around, Jooheon is leaning against the wall, mostly hidden beneath the shadows of the roof, and he has his hands wrapped around himself as if ready to ward off any dangers lurking in the night.

 

But Hoseok can see in his eyes that the protection comes too late.

 

“It’s hard,” Jooheon says, quietly, and looks at Hoseok. “Looking at them. Changkyun tries so hard, but…” He trails off, and his gaze falls to the ground.

 

“I know,” Hoseok nods, and goes to rest his back on the hard wood as well. “They shouldn’t have to go through this.”

 

“It’s just…” Jooheon starts again, swallows, and shakes his head. “Sometimes I wish we could help them more, you know, not let Changkyun take this all upon himself… It wears him out, too.”

 

“What? Looking after Kihyun?”

 

“Yeah, just, I don’t know… Live a life for two, I suppose.  He just seems so tired and sad all the time.”

 

“Of course he is.” Hoseok pauses. “But he doesn’t think of it as a chore – “

 

“That’s not what I meant – “

 

“And he would be sad anyway. Kihyun’s always been his pillar of support, and now… I don’t think Kihyun would still be here if it wasn’t for Changkyun.”

 

Jooheon sighs deeply and bends his neck, hiding his eyes beneath his hat. He doesn’t have anything to say to that. There is nothing to say to that.

 

The silence stretches on while they both lose themselves in thoughts about ifs, whys, hows, all futile ideas about things they have no control over. They think about the boys upstairs, and of Minhyuk and Hyungwon, and Hyunwoo and his uncle.

 

Hoseok thinks about his brother, too. He would know what to do.

 

As much as Hoseok wants to be his brother, he isn’t. His brother would have made sure everything was alright, that everyone were okay, and no one would be crying now, because they would be just _fine_ –

 

And that’s when Hoseok realizes that no, they wouldn’t be. What happens to them is beyond his control, and nothing he did or didn’t do could ever change that.

 

Not even his brother could have prevented this.

 

It makes him feel a little bit better about himself, but it ties another knot in his stomach as the severity of their distress hits him once again. Not even his brother…

 

He glances over at Jooheon, who meets his eyes easily. None of them say anything, but Hoseok lifts his brow and licks his lips slightly, and Jooheon understands. He bends down and opens one of the many pockets on his pants, pulling out a rumpled and stained pack of cigarettes.

 

“They might be a bit wet,” he warns as Hoseok accepts them with a small thanks. “Had some contact with the ground… You know.”

 

“I’m sure they’re fine,” Hoseok brushes him off and takes one out. He still doesn’t know how Jooheon gets these, and they are always kind of stale, but it doesn’t matter much. They help, once in a while, and if there ever was a night –

 

“I have some more bluebird, if you’d rather have that,” Jooheon offers as Hoseok goes to retrieve a matchbox from the hallway. “You know, less smell, less…” He trails off.

 

Hoseok considers it for a second, but shakes his head.

 

“No,” he says. “It feels wrong to take that without you. When we are all so… Out of it. The bluebird is supposed to keep us together, not help us forget each other. I’d rather have this. This is only me.”

 

Jooheon understands. Hoseok can see it on his face, the little light that awakens in his eyes once he realizes that Hoseok understands, Hoseok agrees about the bluebird.

 

It makes him smile a little bit around the cigarette.

 

A poor excuse for a silver lining, but he will take it. They need whatever they can get right now.

 

***

 

Minhyuk returns to the village at the break of dawn, with ashes still sailing gently through the air and his breath fogging in the cold. But it’s quiet. Not peaceful, just quiet. He crosses a street and looks down at the scorched remains of the office two blocks away. It’s still pitch black against all the grey and brown, crumpled, but not quite gone, just like an ugly corpse rotting into the earth.

 

No one runs around outside of it anymore, and the flames are dead. Minhyuk supposes it’s a good sign.

 

He has had some time to think, to compose himself, and as his hand shakes around the little vial of blue liquid he has hidden away in his pocket, he knows he needs to find Hyungwon.

 

He is ashamed, he feels guilty, he knows he did….

 

He didn’t do anything _wrong._

But Hyungwon shouldn’t have been caught in the mayhem.

 

It’s not just about the fire – Hyungwon shouldn’t be involved in any of this. Rebellious teens, abusive father, secret alliances, all of it. Minhyuk just wishes Hyungwon could have a life, if not normal, then at least less painful than this.

 

He doesn’t deserve this.

 

And, Minhyuk realizes, he has not made it any easier for him. He tried, he really did, but maybe keeping Hyungwon happy doesn’t resonate with justice.

 

It’s ironic. He thought justice would save Hyungwon from his father, just like it would save the village from their tormentors. They are moving towards one of those goals (maybe it’s impossible, maybe they’ve just started a hopeless battle, but Minhyuk is tired of cowering), and yet there may not be a correlation.

 

It hurts Minhyuk’s heart, just thinking about it.

 

All he ever wanted to do was help everyone, make them happy again.

 

He doesn’t know if he will be able to help anyone, and right now it just feels like he has doomed them all.

 

Still.

 

Still.

 

He doesn’t regret what he did.

 

He just regrets having to do it.

 

***

 

Hyunwoo didn’t see what went down that night. He wasn’t asleep, not quite, maybe dozing for a little bit just simply because his body is too tired and his eyes slide closed to the soft background noise of the birds chirping, cicadas, the occasional walk past his window.

 

Until, suddenly, there is something more. Shouts, urgent, running footsteps both inside the station and outside on the streets, then there are a few crashes and a shriek, and Hyunwoo wonders what’s going on.

 

He steps up to the window, but it’s too high on the wall, too small, and he can’t really see anything through it. The proximity helps him hear, though, and he hears more odd noises, panicked, and then there is a smell –

 

It smells like a bonfire. Burning wood and soot through the air, a familiar scent he has both dreams and nightmares about.

 

“Hey!” He shouts, as loudly as he can. “What’s going on? Someone! Hey!”

 

But no one answers. He doesn’t know if he is shouting to the streets, to any random passerbys or fleeing victims, or to the guards outside his cell he last saw five hours ago.

 

With a rush of panic, Hyunwoo wonders whether the fire is nearby, close enough to lick at this one, his prison, his cell. No one would let him out, they would be worried about other things, and Hyunwoo would be trapped beneath tons of dry wood and stone reinforcement. And then the fire would attack him, leave him helplessly buried alive under searing weights, send black smog through his lungs until he choked, slit his throat –

 

Only a few days ago, he was the master of the flames, and now it has come back with vengeance fuelling its reach. He has seen how the fire strikes, how it murders and tortures and reduces people to half-lives before an inevitable fall six feet beneath the dust and soil, and it’s come back for him now, too. Hyunwoo was a fool to believe he could control it, to think he was able to use it as he wanted to, even if it was just to make a point to himself and to _them –_

He falls backwards against the wall and lets out a yelp, feeling the heat of invisible flames stretch against his skin and then through, touching his veins, boiling his muscles and pressing against his ribs. His breath hitches and the air becomes thick, warm, and catches in his mouth while his lungs scream for anything, any small intake of oxygen. This is it, Hyunwoo thinks in a brief second of clarity, he dies tonight, alone and forgotten in a cell.

 

_No, not quite alone._

The tilted cross on his chest.

 

He still has his friends.

 

Family.

 

With a desperate choked noise, he reaches up to grab at the spot that still itches a little, feeling it throb as his hand slams on top of it, and then suddenly the flames are gone. He is sitting in an empty, cold cell, listening to the noise from the outside, distant, confusing. But it’s outside. Far outside. There isn’t even any light in his jail, clouds are blocking the stars and the moon, and Hyunwoo realizes that he is still safe. The yells and cracks are more frequent now, but they are not getting any closer. Hyunwoo knocks on the wall cautiously. The sound is loud, far too loud, and the ruckus from outside is quiet in comparison.

 

He should be okay.

 

His hand still lingers above his chest, a steady weight as his breaths slow down to a normal pace and the blood in his ears fades to nothing.

 

A reminder.

 

He hopes his friends are safe too.

 

***

 

It’s in the early hours of the morning, when the sun is rising and Minhyuk feels his eyes droop treacherously, that he finds Hyungwon.

 

He should have gone back here immediately, should have known that Hyungwon’s refuge would be his unattended, withering childhood home. But adrenaline twisted his mind, and concern made him hide away in the forest until he realized what he was doing and came back. There really is nowhere else for Hyungwon to go, and Minhyuk should have known.

 

Maybe he did. Maybe he just needed time. Time to –

 

He doesn’t bother to soften his steps as he tears through the open door. Let Hyungwon hear him now, Minhyuk is going to find him anyway.

 

Hyungwon isn’t crouching in his mother’s old bedroom today, or in her kitchen, or in the living room.

 

“Hyungwon?”

 

No answer.

 

Minhyuk briefly entertains the thought that he might be wrong, after all, that Hyungwon might have outdone himself and escaped somewhere no one expected, where no one could find him. No, he wouldn’t have. Hyungwon is a sentimental soul, and there are few places that soothes his wounds like the cradle of his dreams.

 

“Hyungwon?”

 

He works his way through the little house systematically, and it doesn’t take long before he finds himself at the old bathroom, the one at the North-Eastern corner with a separate door to the gardens. Hyungwon’s mother used to do laundry in this bathroom, and take the clothes out to hang them on the washing line between two cherry trees. That door is broken now, too, and plants are crawling in through the tiles and wall planks, dragging dirt and gravel with them until it looks more like their greenhouse than a washing room.

 

But the water taps are intact.

 

Minhyuk sees the edge of the bathtub before he even steps through the door, and it is filled to the brim with clear, fresh water.

 

And two feet dangling over the edge, soaked and limp, extending down to long legs fully submerged and completely still.

 

Minhyuk wipes a hand over his face, though his palm is just as clammy as his cheeks, and heaves a long sigh as he rounds the doorframe.

 

Hyungwon is too tall for the old tub, and his body stretches out awkwardly beneath and above the water that still drips over the edge in tiny waterfalls. His shoulders lean against the opposite side, just below the surface, and his head falls gracelessly back against the rim as the first rays of sunlight highlight the pallor on his face. There is no colour left, only a vague sparkle from the water drops stuck on his cheeks.

 

It’s a pitiful sight.

 

Minhyuk doesn’t know what to think anymore.

 

He walks around the tub to the little stool in the corner, old and rotten, but it will hold his weight for now. He dumps down heavily, his eyes never leaving Hyungwon’s still face, and lets out another sigh.

 

How did it come to this?

 

There are no apologies sincere enough to remedy all the wrongs they have done each other, and the realization breaks a heart Minhyuk thought he patched together a long time ago.

 

He tried to help Hyungwon. He hurt Hyungwon. Hyungwon hurt him back.

 

Everything is a mess.

 

Minhyuk still has a vial of bluebird in his pocket. He takes it out and moves his gaze from Hyungwon’s limp face to the magnificent blue trapped behind the glass. There is a little bit of them all in there, a small piece of their soul in each drop of the secret liquid. It is Hyunwoo, Hoseok, Jooheon, Changkyun, Kihyun, Minhyuk and Hyungwon, hidden behind a vibrant colour and hushed promises. They said they’d conquer the world together. That nothing could take them down while they had each other, that they would be alright, that tomorrow would bring a new day if they just held on long enough.

 

There is a black ‘X’ pressed into the skin of his palm where the little flask rests. Their sign. Their unity.

 

Apparently, none of it meant a thing to Hyungwon.

 

Minhyuk pulls out the cork from the bottle and upends it over the bathtub. What was it all for, if they leave each other like this? Why does he need to hold on if they break apart this easily?

 

The sound of the bluebird hitting water is not deafening, but it interrupts a monotonous silence and makes the tired room come alive again, for a few seconds until the bottle empties and all that remains is a swirled pattern weaving its way down the water, over Hyungwon’s legs and around his arms. Minhyuk traces the trail with his eyes and lets the vial slip out of his hands.

 

Hyungwon’s head turns towards him.

 

“Minhyuk…” His voice is hoarse, quiet, scared, but Minhyuk doesn’t turn to face him. Instead, he keeps staring at the blue thinning out into clarity.

 

“I’m sorry…”

 

“Sorry isn’t going to undo this,” Minhyuk says briskly, and knots his hands together in agitation. It’s a tell-tale sign, and Hyungwon knows how to read him, but he doesn’t want to give him too many advantages right now.

 

“I know,” Hyungwon agrees wearily, and shakes his head a little from side to side, without lifting it from the edge of the tub. Even such a small motion seems to drain all his energy.

 

“Why are you still here?” It’s rough, indelicate and without sugar, but there is no reason to skirt around matters anymore.

 

“I tried, Minhyuk…” Hyungwon says slowly, slightly slurred around the cold and the water, and Minhyuk finally shifts his gaze to look at Hyungwon’s blueing lips quietly. “I tried, but then I started asking myself questions – how, why, what if, and… And I just couldn’t do it.”

 

Minhyuk shakes his head slightly, more forcefully than Hyungwon had just a moment ago, but he doesn’t say anything.

 

“I wanted to, but my body just kept going back up for air, and I just…” Hyungwon trails off, and they fall into a ponderous silence. It’s not uncomfortable, but it’s not relaxed either. It’s just resigned, sad, and they both end up questioning where they went wrong.

 

If they went wrong.

 

Hyungwon thought he couldn’t sink any deeper into this pit of uncertainty and fear, of conflicted loyalties and pain. He thought he hit the bottom, but at least he saw a way out of it all. Now, it doesn’t feel like there is an escape at all. He looks at Minhyuk, at his bent head and shaking shoulders, and he thinks about the people he selfishly wanted to leave behind. Desert them in favour of nothingness – where his guilt would have faded into oblivion and he could have been free at last.

 

But he didn’t foresee the locked gate that had all but tossed him back into reality with a vengeance.

 

His best friend looks devastated. And it’s Hyungwon’s fault – most, some of it, anyway. He knows there are a lot of things on Minhyuk’s mind, and he is only one of them. But he makes it worse, all the time, that’s all he does these days. Minhyuk tries his best, he knows this, but Minhyuk doesn’t know everything, and Hyungwon isn’t able to make him understand.

 

Minhyuk used to understand.

 

Hyungwon isn’t sure when that changed, but here they are.

 

Maybe it changed when the rest of the village changed. Maybe it changed once Minhyuk started to comprehend what was happening around them. Maybe it started when his parents died. Maybe it started when they both grew up.

 

But they are still just children.

 

“I want to be mad at you,” Minhyuk says eventually, breaking the uneasy quiet with a whisper that sounds like a yell to Hyungwon’s ears. He looks up at Minhyuk again, but all he sees is a blonde mop bent over skinny knees. “But I… You should be mad at me too. I don’t know who’s got the biggest right to be mad today.”

 

“Let’s just all be angry with each other and be done with it,” Hyungwon drawls. It’s not a joke, but Minhyuk sniggers under his hunch nonetheless.

 

“I suppose we are the ones who should be satisfied, but….” But. _You._

 

“Maybe Hoseok can find some peace now, at least,” Hyungwon suggests, but Minhyuk shakes his head immediately.

 

“Hoseok wasn’t out there for revenge. He came with me out of loyalty. Changkyun too.”

 

Hyungwon doesn’t know if that should make him feel better or not. At least his friends acted out of friendship rather than malicious intentions, but if this didn’t stitch their wounds either…

 

Then again, they aren’t talking about wounds. They are talking about scars. Pains that scab over and fade with time, but they never disappear completely, remaining etched into their very being as a sore reminder of prolonged suffering that no words or vengeance can erase.

 

Hyungwon has a new scar now.

 

“How nice,” he bites off. “I guess my presence wasn’t a part of the equation?”

 

“… Hyungwon…?”

 

“I was almost killed by my best friend today.”

 

“No, Hyungwon – “ Minhyuk breathes, licks his lips. “I didn’t want – I mean, I didn’t think… I thought you were here.”

 

“Why?” Hyungwon can’t help the bitter tinge to his tone. “I live there, after all.”

 

“But you always sleep here – “

 

“Minhyuk, it’s getting colder, and this house is too drafty for the nights,” Hyungwon specifies with a lazy look around the tattered walls, broken windows, invading vegetation. The degradation. “The world moves on, and I can’t ignore that. I’m going home to sleep these days.”

 

Minhyuk bites his lip, hard, at that. “ _This_ is your home, though.”

 

“This used to be my home.” Hyungwon pauses. “It’s not anymore.”

 

And Minhyuk wants to argue with that, he really does. He wants to say that this, his mother’s cabin, his childhood shelter, _this is_ his home. Not that hideous little building his father bought in the village centre. That place is dull, lifeless, hostile in its coldness, and worst of all, _he_ lives there. Inside those four walls, hidden behind dirty glass panels and the hum of the busy streets, he rules. That is where he strikes Hyungwon, bruises his arms and makes him bleed. If only Hyungwon didn’t go back, he would be alright. He would be safe.

 

But Minhyuk can’t make those arguments today.

 

He just burned that house to the ground, he might have hurt somebody, he almost hurt Hyungwon.

 

He still doesn’t regret it, but he knows Hyungwon thinks he should.

 

He also knows that Hyungwon thought to abandon him without as much as an explanation or a chance to – a chance to talk.

 

“My best friends almost left me today.”

 

Hyungwon doesn’t say anything to that, but he closes his eyes wearily and one of his fingers twitches against the surface of the water.

 

Minhyuk sighs heavily, and rises on shaky knees without looking at Hyungwon. None of them are good with words, they aren’t poetic or eloquent or even patient, either of them, and they are just going to drive each other in circles like this.

 

He doesn’t want that. There has been more than enough shit between them already.

 

“Fuck this.”

 

Hyungwon’s gaze burns on his shoulder, his throat, and towards his cheek as he walks around the tub again with heavy steps. He doesn’t pause to take off his jacket, hood, or even his shoes. It doesn’t matter. None of it matters, triviality be damned and Minhyuk can’t find it in him to care. He swings one foot over the tub, letting it sink as he braces an arm against the brim of the tub. Water jumps out, around his knee and towards the floor, splashing all over the tiles and his other ankle, and he vaguely registers the cold rush. He expected as much, from Hyungwon’s lethargy and blue tints.

 

He should do something else. He should get Hyungwon out, get him somewhere warm – the orphanage, maybe, where Kihyun can boil a hot soup and Hoseok can set up the fireplace… But they have had enough burning cinders for today, and this isn’t about them, this is about them, Hyungwon and Minhyuk. Just the two of them.

 

Minhyuk isn’t a rational person. Rationality would have taken him through a more sensible route, one without dangers of hypothermia and crossed boundaries. But Minhyuk has heart.

 

His heart doesn’t want to hear Hyungwon’s mumbled question, the nagging little voice that sounds somewhat like Hoseok, the little scream his legs let out as they are submerged in icy water and Minhyuk bends down to drape himself over Hyungwon’s chilled body.

 

Hyungwon doesn’t move, doesn’t protest or push him off. Instead, he just relaxes, sighs, resigned now, just like everyone else always was. Minhyuk rests his head on top of Hyungwon’s, closes his mouth against the tiny waves dancing around the tub from their jostle.

 

The cold is quickly enveloping Minhyuk as well, and he feels a shiver run down his spine as his clothes soak and drag his weight further down against Hyungwon.

 

It’s not really comfortable, it’s a tiny tub and they are both tall boys, but they crumple and mould together easily enough, just like they used to do, and then it’s kind of okay.

 

Minhyuk sniffs and bites his lip against the cold, willing himself to move beyond the physical discomfort, because it’s not really comparable to this calamity they have created for themselves.

 

He reaches out to Hyungwon’s hand, limp and icy just beneath the surface of the water. His twisted black cross seems to open a dark hole against pale fingers and bleached porcelain, but it’s safety when he slides his palm against Hyungwon’s, a light grasp, just enough to make his point.

 

It takes a second, but then he feels Hyungwon’s hand mould itself gently into his.

 

_I’m sorry._

_I’m sorry too._

***

 

The morning is like a slap to the face, brutal and quick, but haunting.

 

The soldiers round up the entire village, forcing them out to the market square with shouts and waving guns, and most people know what it is about. They have seen, or at least heard about the fire last night, and repercussions are to be expected.

 

Minhyuk and Hyungwon are nowhere to be found, and Hyunwoo is still held captive in the station.

 

The light is barely rising when the door to the orphanage is wrenched open, and Hoseok, who hasn’t slept a wink and still sits at the couch in the common room, quickly raises his hands when he sees the muzzles pointed at him. The soldiers don’t pause, but storm through the little building with urgent, purposeful strides.

 

“What’s this?” Hoseok asks, even though he knows – his throat is dry. “You can’t just come in here – “

 

“Shut up, kid!” One of the snaps harshly, poking him with his gun. “Get outside.”

 

“This is an orphanage, I – “

 

His protests are cut off as the soldier backhands him, whipping his neck to the side and drawing blood where the buckle of the black glove connects with his jaw. Hoseok immediately brings a hand up to cradle the sore spot, and he is momentarily too shocked to say anything. He knew he should protect the kids, keep them away from the soldiers, cut them off from the mess they made…

 

But then he finds himself unceremoniously shoved out to the porch, stumbling under the glare of a waiting soldier outside, and he only vaguely hears Changkyun’s muffled shouts from upstairs clashing against the equally harsh rebuttals from the soldiers. Hoseok thinks about the two of them, him and Kihyun, and he knows the soldiers won’t be patient enough to deal with them peacefully – painlessly.

 

Where is Jooheon?

 

He doesn’t even hesitate to run back in, despite the soldier calling out to him and grabbing at him. Luckily Hoseok is quick, and he is back inside, running towards the stairs and the little group of soldiers searching for more victims.

 

One of them notices Hoseok, and slams him into the wall just outside of the sleeping rooms.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?” He spits, putting his forearm on Hoseok’s throat and almost cuts off all air to his lungs. Hoseok gasps in surprise, but doesn’t fight back. That’s not how he is going to win this.

 

“Please,” he says instead, playing the pathetic, complacent role of a scared subordinate. “My friend, he – he’s sick, he can’t come by himself, I need to help him – “

 

“He’ll come,” the soldier snarls, putting more pressure on Hoseok’s neck until his breaths come out in short gulps and he can’t help the instinctual clawing at the rough canvas fabric of the uniform coat. He tries to shake his head, but his movements are restricted, painful, and Hoseok’s vision sparkles a little as the uncomfortable tickle in his throat turns to a painful pressure clamming down on his airways, vocal chords, veins, and he chokes –

 

“Let him go,” one of the other soldiers says disgruntledly from inside the room, and suddenly Hoseok’s is free hand he stumbles a little when the arm disappears and his head falls forward. He brings a hand up to his throat, rubbing it gently as it starts throbbing in a rhythm with his bruised jaw.

 

“What the hell?” The soldier rages against his companion, looking through the doorway where Hoseok can’t see. He thinks he knows what he’s looking at.

 

“It’s the cripple,” the other soldiers says, and Changkyun’s angry cries are cut-off by loud smack and something hitting the floor. Hoseok grits his teeth together and forces himself to stay quiet. “Let him come in to get this mess moving.”

 

As soon as the order is spoken, Hoseok takes off, ducking around the doorway to find his friends.

 

Changkyun is kneeling on the floor, a hand to his head and his gaze towards the floor. Kihyun sits next to him, awkwardly tucked against the bed with one hand resting on Changkyun’s shoulder. There are two soldiers standing above them, without masks today, but their expressions are just as cold as the hard plastic usually placed beneath their helms.

 

Hoseok wastes no time, but runs over the two on the floor and drops down next to them.

 

“You alright?” He asks Changkyun quietly.

 

He obviously isn’t. His eyes are swollen, his cheek reddening around pale skin and fatigue rolls off him in waves, and it’s heartbreaking to see Changkyun like this. But he glances at Hoseok and nods, determination never broken. “Yeah,” he says shakily. “I’m alright.”

 

Hoseok nods too. Then he turns to Kihyun, who looks up at Hoseok with such sad, scared eyes that Hoseok once more wishes for nothing else but an escape, a place to go without abusive tormentors and frights and pain.

 

But, he has come to realize, there is no such thing after all.

 

“You?”

 

Kihyun barely looks any better than last night, still trembling a little and wincing every time he moves, but he nods too, and Hoseok sees him curling his fist slightly in Changkyun’s shirt. As good as they are going to get.

 

There is an impatient cough behind them, and Changkyun scowls in the direction of the soldiers, but keeps quiet.

 

“Come on, then,” Hoseok takes charge instead, rising to his feet and stretching a hand out to Changkyun. He grabs it and drags himself up, standing not quite as tall as Hoseok, but undefeated and challenging, at least. He isn’t unfazed by last night, there are shadows lingering in his eyes and his posture remains slightly slumped, but he hasn’t given up either. Shaken, not broken. He’ll manage.

 

Hoseok bends back down and puts one of Kihyun’s arms across his shoulder while holding onto his waist, and raise them upright as well. He doesn’t mistake the little gasp next to him – it’s obvious that Kihyun’s legs still hurt him after last night.

 

“You sure you’re alright?” He asks gently, because he will carry Kihyun if he has to, if it is too much, too soon.

 

But Kihyun purses his lips and nods, straightening himself a little to prove his point.

 

“Where are your crutches?” Changkyun asks, frowning. Kihyun wrinkles his nose a little and gives a half-hearted shrug in Hoseok’s grip.

 

“Enough of this, move along!” One of the soldiers interrupt, gesturing to the door impatiently, and the boys reluctantly obey.

 

Hoseok still wonders where Jooheon is, because he could have sworn he was just in the kitchen earlier, but maybe he slipped out during the commotion. Or maybe he left at some point, during the night, like he does sometimes. They don’t see him as they make their way downstairs, or when they are shepherded outside and down to the streets below along with the few neighbours they have up on the hill.

 

Everyone looks uneasy, scared, various degrees of upset and angry. Hoseok can’t blame them, and he can’t help but feeling slightly guilty again. It’s because of them, he knows, they are all chased out of their homes because of their actions last night.

 

The people in the village will probably be alright. The soldiers are frustrating, terrifying, but not unreasonably cruel. They toned it down, since the church, after they thought they had scared the little community into submission. Mostly, this is true, and it generally works.

 

Until now.

 

They don’t take the shortcuts in between houses, down the cobbled stairs etched into the hillside, but instead opt for the winding streets, which Hoseok appreciates for what it is. The soldiers guide them as a hoard, and that is as degrading as it is unsettling, but it is easier on Kihyun’s legs this way, and it keeps Changkyun a bit sheltered from the soldiers. He looks tense as a string, angry and ready to snap at any second, if not for Hoseok and Kihyun next to him, as well as the angry bruise swelling on his cheek. Changkyun is impulsive, not stupid, but the distance helps mollify his temper a little bit.

 

There is something else that ticks Hoseok's nerves. He glances around them, and none of the other villagers are looking at them, instead practically ignoring their existence even as they walk in the midst of them. Or, maybe specifically, they are not looking at Kihyun. It is disturbing, in a way. All the grown-ups in the village used to adore Kihyun - the church singer and most well-behaved of the orphan boys, they doted on him whenever their paths interfered, and Kihyun soaked up the attention with a reserved politeness that only increased their praise. He was the village golden boy, and now they can't even look at him as he struggles just to go on with daily life.

 

Hoseok wishes he could say he hated them for their cowardice, but he doesn't, he can't. It's pitiful, but he knows what Kihyun has become in their eyes.

 

Just a symbol of how far they have fallen.

 

All because of _them._

 

Their descent down to the market square is not filled with the usual chatter and banter, but is instead quiet and anxious. The walk is long, but when Hoseok looks up they are standing in the middle of a crown, and people are looking back and forth at each other, murmuring and shouting angry demands at the guards on the edge of the square.

 

Changkyun has taken Kihyun’s weight from him now, temporarily, and Hoseok can see a red tint on Kihyun’s cheeks that is either from shame or exertion, or maybe both, but Changkyun is unfazed, glancing around them curiously, and if he is nervous about their actions last night, it doesn’t show.

 

This both confuses and impresses Hoseok.

 

He notices how visible their matching tattoos are like this, when they are huddled against each other and the black and blue twisted crosses contrast their pallor, and Hoseok hopes no one else sees or questions it.

 

He steps a little bit closer, shielding them a little, and takes the opportunity to look around. There are no familiar faces, and he wonders where the others are.

 

Then someone starts speaking from the front of the square, and everyone turns to listen, wondering what is going on, why they are here.

 

There is a man, not clad in pure black but black with red, and he talks aggressively about terror and criminals and arson, makes promises that they will catch whoever is responsible, that they already have suspects, and that this barbaric behaviour will not be tolerated. He talks about punishment, revenge, as if they are the ones wronged in the first place.

 

It sounds like a load of bullshit to Hoseok, but he holds his tongue.

 

Suspects.

 

He wonders who these ‘suspects’ are. Could they have been compromised? Does Hyungwon’s father remember them?

 

Probably not.

 

They were only ever kids, after all.

 

“Where are Minhyuk and Hyungwon?” Changkyun asks quietly, and Hoseok’s attention is diverted from the speaker for a second.

 

“Don’t know,” he says truthfully, and glances around the square again. Still no sight of light blond, still no tall figure sticking out above other heads in the crowd.

 

Jooheon would be impossible to spot if he was there.

 

They eventually let them go, heaping up with warnings and threats as they are tossed back out, but Hoseok doesn’t find it in him to care. Changkyun and Kihyun are an intertwined mess, but Hoseok isn’t able to break them up this time, and they take their sweet time trudging up to the orphanage again. It takes even longer than usual, and Hoseok makes a point of stopping to tie his shoelaces a few times to give them a brief moment of respite.

 

Much to his surprise, they find Hyunwoo waiting for them on the porch of the orphanage.

 

He looks tired, pale, and just a little disorientated, but his mouth is set in a firm line, and he nods grimly at them when they approach.

 

Hoseok is quick to usher them all in, puts on a kettle while Changkyun fetches a blanket for Hyunwoo, and for once, the eldest just accepts all the fuss without protests.

 

He tells them about the cell, the curious smell of a fire last night, and how they released him this morning. Eventually, he talks about his uncle, and they all offer their condolences, but Hyunwoo shrugs them off uncomfortably, and says he doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s just words, and he’d rather they move on.

 

They let him.

 

In turn, they fill him in on the events of the previous week, and it’s only then that Hoseok realizes how long the past few days have been.

 

The rain starts up again outside, and it creates an illusion of a shelter in there, an isolation from the village below, because the downpour is so thick and heavy that no one wants to venture out there.

 

That is, no one until Jooheon suddenly barges through the door, dripping all over the floor and chattering loudly.

 

“I will be back in five minutes,” he announces loudly, and stares pointedly at Kihyun, who is frowning at the water running all over the common room. “Just going to change and stuff first. See, I’ve got manners.”

 

They just stare after him, bewildered, and Hoseok has half a mind to shake him sore because _what a shitty time to disappear_ but he lets it slide.

 

Jooheon has a point, and he wastes no time after he settles down in dry clothes with a mug of tea in between his hands.

 

“So,” he starts and looks around. “Where are Minhyuk and Hyungwon?”

 

“Still MIA,” Hoseok winces. “Hopefully they’ll show up soon.”

 

“Right.” Jooheon nods. “I’m impatient. As you know, I’ve been gone – “

 

“ – we noticed.”

 

“ – and I’ve got some news.”

 

He pauses and takes a sip of the tea before clearing his throat. “I’ve said this before. It’s now or never, and  after tonight, we’re firmly on the now-wagon. I heard they kicked up a fuss this morning, yeah?”

 

“True,” Hoseok says, and Changkyun nods.

 

Jooheon looks pleased with himself, but also disturbingly serious.

 

“Right,” he says, dragging out the word slightly before proceeding. “Well, we are not alone. This whole country is shit, and apparently some places are even shittier than here. We are just in time for an uprising.”

 

The room stays quiet as they all digest the meaning of Jooheon’s words.

 

An uprising. A nationwide uprising. After years of unjust rule, someone is fighting back.

 

At last.

 

“They are moving their way down South,” Jooheon continues. “So they’ll be here soon. There’s already a small base just a day away from here, nothing major, mostly low-key to scout out things, enlist new recruits, and so on, but they’ll expand soon enough.”

 

He pauses again, but still no one interrupts him.

 

“They can help us. We can fight back. God knows there is nothing left for us here anymore.”

 

Hoseok nods slowly, not quite believing the magnitude of it all. “Right. Okay. Will they take us, though? We’re just kids.”

 

Jooheon smirks. “Kids are just what they want,” he says. “The heroes of tomorrow, yeah? That’s us. This is us. It’s always been us, a brotherhood, unity, all of it, right? Now we can get bigger. More help from the outside. We’ll be strong, and we can take them down for good!”

 

“Are you really sure about all of this?” Hyunwoo asks cautiously. He doesn’t seem convinced, or maybe he is just spooked by his recent stay in the cell.

 

Jooheon nods furiously. “Yes, yes, so much yes. I’ve talked to them, I’ve heard rumours, radios, it’s all there. Come on, what do you say?”

 

Jooheon asks the room, but Hoseok doesn’t know where he wants an answer from. Jooheon looks expectantly between them all, eyes imploring, hopeful, and it’s so tempting to say yes.

 

Except, this is a huge choice.

 

It’s dangerous, uncertain, and a huge commitment that may end in persecution or death. Hoseok wonders about the younger boys, especially, if he could even have the heart to send them out there –

 

“We’ll fight.”

 

Four heads whip around at the proclamation, and Changkyun immediately sits up straighter to tug at Kihyun’s arm.

 

“Hyung, are you – “ he frowns, but Kihyun just looks at him and nods. His eyes are burning with determination now, similar to what Hoseok usually sees from Changkyun, and there are no traces of guilt or fear on his countenance now.

 

Hoseok hasn’t heard Kihyun speak in a very long time, and the gravelly tone isn’t what he remembers from years ago.

 

But the power is still there, and the conviction behind his words is a better incentive than any arguments Hoseok could ever weigh around in his head. It goes to show how far they have come, but he knows the road goes on beyond his line of vision, and he just hopes they can find the end. It helps to know that they are walking away together.

 

He smiles, and the others have matching expressions of intrigue, excitement, desire. It’s exhilarating.

 

It's like the bluebird again.

 

“Okay. We fight.”

 

***

 

Minhyuk and Hyungwon are sprawled out in the broken living room, hiding under a blanket and watching the raindrops fall through the roof in uneven streams.

 

It’s unusual for them to be so quiet, but there is much about their relationship that has changed lately.

 

Their hands are intertwined under the blanket, but they haven’t looked at each other once since extracting themselves from the bath tub.

 

If Minhyuk looks at Hyungwon, he knows he’ll be angry again, at Hyungwon’s father, at himself, at Hyungwon. Then he’ll be sad and guilty, and then he’ll want to leave.

 

But he doesn’t really want to leave, so he keeps his eyes to himself.

 

Hyungwon thinks about what he has done. What he wanted to do. If he still wants to do it.

 

If not, then what else?

 

He is confused.

 

He thinks lovingly of his memories of Minhyuk, the boy he grew up with, shared so much with. The boy he never wanted to leave.

 

Then he thinks about the man who torched his father’s home.

 

He doesn’t know where they stand anymore, but when he clutches Minhyuk’s hand in his own, he can pretend that everything is okay, just for a little while longer.

 

And he thinks he needs to make some decisions.

 

“Minhyuk?”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Will you…”

 

He pauses, and rethinks this once more in his head. No, it’s now or never, and Hyungwon has to make his stand, like everyone else.

 

“Will you fight with me? By my side?”

 

Minhyuk doesn’t answer immediately, and Hyungwon wishes he didn’t doubt him, but he does, if only for a second. Then Minhyuk gives his hand a squeeze.

 

“Of course. Always.”

 

They’re not okay.

 

But they can work on it.

**Author's Note:**

> i am kinda dead
> 
> but please leave a comment if you liked it! i always enjoy your reactions so much, and they do help a lot when i'm writing more in the future!


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